


Guns and Hearts

by Contego



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BAMF Lance (Voltron), Gun Kink, Knife Kink, M/M, Slow Burn, bitter shiro, gang member Lance, hitman shiro, possessive shiro, this fic focuses more on Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-02-18 17:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Contego/pseuds/Contego
Summary: Veteran-turned-merc, Shiro is hired to kill the Altean gang member Lance McClain.





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> I'll update this as much as I can before I leave for boot camp on January 28th.

Another package appeared at the mailbox drop site only days after his last job was completed. Great. More work. The only thing keeping Shiro from pulling his hair out was the fact that he gets paid to do what he’s best at- kill. Ever since Shiro lost his arm in combat, he decided to do the less honorable thing and turn to merc work. Losing his arm and his career turned him sour and cold, so his new job didn’t really bother him as much as he originally planned. 

 

He carefully opened the package, pulling the manila folder out and opening it. At first glance, this would be a pretty easy hit. Shiro glanced at the photo his employer attached perhaps a little too long. 

 

_ Name: Lance McClain.  _

_ Age: 23  _

_ Marital status: Single _

 

_ Usually seen hanging around the bar off of 23rd street. A high ranking member of the Altean gang. Looks are deceiving. He killed a high ranking member of the Galra gang. He’s known to use sniping techniques and can handle himself well with hand-to-hand combat.  _

 

Great. Another gang hit. Honestly, these were below him. Could the gangs not do the dirty work themselves? With a sigh, Shiro shoved the folder back into the package and stood to his feet. Time to go scope out his target. 

 

Shiro went over the sparse file over and over in his mind on the walk back to his apartment. Why would they want him dead for something so… small? Sure, he killed their people, but that’s something so small to hire Shiro to take care of him. There has to be something else they’re not telling him. 

 

“Honestly, fuck these people. I hate when people keep shit from me.” Shiro muttered, rubbing the bridge with frustration. The last time his client kept information from him, Shiro ended up half-dead in a ditch. Within a few minutes, he was in his room and rifling through his closet. He pulled out his dark colored jeans, throwing on his dark purple t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. The only thing left now is the essential on-hand arsenal of weapons. 

 

He pulled out his two stiletto pocket knife (sheathed, of course), sticking it in the back of both of his boots. Then, his personal favorite, the Beretta Nano Micro 9mm pocket pistol. Small enough to easily hide on his person, but still could get the job done. Last, but not least, he placed two rainbow brass knuckles in each of his inside pockets of his jacket. Now he’s finally ready to go scope out assess his target. 

 

About thirty minutes later and armed to full capacity, Shiro made his way to the described bar.  _ This place is so dirty… _ He thought to himself, looking around at the dimly lit bar. Smoke from cigars and cigarettes filled the space, causing a smog under the lights. The sounds of drunken laughter assaulted the ears. What would a high ranking Altean be doing here? As casually as possible, Shiro walked to the bar counter. 

 

“What’s someone like you doing in here? Wouldn’t wanna risk getting that pretty face of yours broken, hm?” Shiro whipped around to meet the voice of the person patronizing him. His eyes met dark blue, stormy eyes. And those eyes were attached to…  _ Lance.  _ His target. The hitman looked the other up and down. A spaghetti-strapped blue tank top, black shorts, and a jean jacket that is falling off his shoulders. But what stood out the most to Shiro was the thin lace choker around his neck.  _ Hot.  _ The guy looked completely out of place here.

 

“Don’t worry. I can handle myself just fine.” Shiro smirked, walking up beside Lance, leaning on the counter of the bar. Lance let out a laugh, downing his shot.  _ He doesn’t seem like a killer.  _ Shiro thought, eyeing the man in front of him. 

 

“Oh, can you? You do have big muscles, so I wouldn’t doubt it,” He motioned for more drinks to the barkeep, officially turning his whole body to face Shiro. He placed his head in the palm of his hand, a playful smile on his face, “Who  _ are  _ you?” His eyes went from playful to sharp and deadly within an instant. 

 

“Takashi Shirogane. But most people call me Shiro.” Lance’s eyebrow perked up, a small smirk appearing on his face. A million things were going through Shiro’s mind in this moment. Mainly about how much he wanted to see Lance under him. ‘ _ Jesus, pull it together, Shiro.’  _ He lectured to himself. 

 

The barkeep placed a shot in front of Lance and another in front of Shiro. The younger man motioned for Shiro to join him in downing the shot, which Shiro happily joined in on. They slammed their shot glasses down, their faces distorting at the harsh taste. 

 

“Well, I’m not most people.” Lance drawled, wiggling his brows. Shiro had to admit… Lance’s charm is hard to resist. Lance almost had Shiro put his entire guard down. ‘ _ No! Stay focused! He’s doing this on purpose!’  _ Shiro thought to himself, mentally slapping himself. 

 

With a quick movement, Lance had his arm around Shiro’s neck, pulling him in close, “Isn’t that right,  _ Champion _ ?” Lance whispered with a devious smirk. In an instant, Shiro shot up from the counter, chair clattering the ground. With practiced ease, Shiro had his hand resting on the Glock in the back of his waistband. His eyes narrowed as he watched the Altean gang member laugh at him.  _ What’s so funny? How does he know who I am?  _ A million questions raced through his mind. There should be no way that this guy knows his identity… Yet here is. 

 

“How do you-” Shiro began but found himself unable to finish his sentence. Everything was spinning around him, objects distorting shape, and soon found himself on the edge of passing out.  _ What’s happening? What did he do?  _ The drink. _ That fucker- _  “What the  _ fuck  _ did you give me?” Lance stayed in his seat, kicking his legs back and forth, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It won’t kill you,” He paused, reaching over the counter and popping a cherry in his mouth, “But you’re gonna wish it did.” Moments later, he spits out a cherry stem, neatly tied. 

 

“Fuck you!” Shiro spat out, gripping the counter to hold his balance.  _ Keith. I need to call Keith.  _ His target simply laughed at him, obviously enjoying what he’s watching. Nothing like toying with the prey. 

 

“Maybe later.” With that, Lance winked and strutted out of the bar. But Shiro still writhed, gripping onto the counter for dear life. Everything was starting to go black. With a shaky hand, Shiro pulled out his phone and barely dialed his brother’s number.

 

_ Ring. _

 

_ Ring. _ __   
  


_ Ring. _

 

“Come on… Fucking pick up…” Another ring later, a voice appeared on the other line. 

 

“Shiro?” Keith’s voice dripped with concern.

 

“The bar off 23rd. Hurry. Poison… Or something… Not sure.” 

 

“On my way.” As soon as the call ended, Shiro’s world went black. 


	2. You Don't Own Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Shiro meet.

**_2 days later..._ **

 

“Take it easy, Shiro. You’re still suffering from the effects of whatever that prick gave you.” Keith jumped to his feet just to lecture his older brother, crossing his arms. Shiro never listened. Just as he was feeling a smidge better he wanted to go back out and finish his job… Even if he isn’t back to full working condition. 

 

“I feel fine. Just a bit disoriented at times.” Shiro rubbed the side of his head, cracking his neck. He walked over the nearest lamp, turning it on. But that still didn’t help how dark the room was. 

 

“And how is being disoriented supposed to help you get the job done? Honestly, Shiro, I don’t know how you could be so careless.” Keith walked over to the kitchen, pulling out two beers. One for him and the other for his brother. Lord knows they need it. Shiro turned a bit red as he looked back on the events from a few days ago. Yeah, he definitely could have been more careful than he was. 

 

“If I told you why I let my guard down, you’d laugh right in my face.”

 

“... What happened?”

 

“It’s my target--- McClain. He’s uh… He’s  _ interesting _ .” Shiro took a few sips of beer, hoping the alcohol would numb him from the feeling of embarrassment. 

 

“Interesting how?” Keith didn’t sound amused at all, but rightfully so.

 

“Interesting in the fact that I want to fuck him into the mattress.” Keith immediately made fake puking noises, making it obvious how mortified he felt. Shiro definitely overshares. 

 

“I did  **_not_ ** need to know that!” Keith shook his head, making various other disgusted noises, “plus, you shouldn’t let that bother you. It’s a  _ job _ . Not a dating service.” 

 

**_Buz_ **

 

Shiro’s phone vibrated, illuminating the dimly lit room. A text? Could it be the client?

 

_ From: Unknown Number _

_ Feeling better? Xoxo _

 

“Who is it?” Keith asked, looking over Shiro’s shoulder. He simply shrugged, staring at the screen. No one should know this number. It’s his burner phone that he uses for work… So who the fuck is this person?

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Who is this?  _

 

_ From: Unknown Number _

_ I’m bored. Come entertain me? I promise I won’t poison you this time. _

 

How in the  _ hell  _ did Lance McClain of all people get his number?! Keith read the message, his face lighting up. 

 

“This is perfect! You can use this as a chance to finish the job.” 

 

“Won’t he see that coming from a mile away?” 

 

“Get him to bring his guard down--- like he did with you! Use your sex appeal and that charm to get him to lower his walls, then  _ BAM!  _ A bullet right between his eyes.” Keith always got overly excited about this kind of stuff. He never saw any action or even killed anyone, but if he did, he’d realize just how boring and mundane it gets after a while. 

 

_ From: Champion _

_ When and where? _

 

An almost immediate response.

 

_ From: McClain _

_ Santa Monica Pier ASAP. _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ OMW. _

 

He stuck his phone in his pocket, arming himself with his usual weapons. There’s not a chance in hell he’d let this guy get him a second time. Time to finish a job that should have been done a long time ago.

 

***

“Is this really a good idea, Lance?” Hunk asked, worry arising in his voice. He watched as Lance readied himself in the mirror. With a pop of his lips, he gave hunk a wink.

 

“Of course it is, buddy. Besides, who’s the boss here?” Lance walked over to his longtime best friend, giving a pat on the back. Hunk has been here since the very start of it all. Hunk worked behind the scenes--making sure all the equipment and weapons were up to date. He was there from the moment Lance was accepted as a member and stood by him each time his friend rose through the ranks. Hunk would never admit it, but he was actually proud of Lance for getting so far in such little time. 

 

“Well,  _ technically  _ since Alfor died, Allura is in charge-” Lance clamped a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. 

 

“Allura  _ says  _ she’s in charge. But let’s be honest, Hunk. I’m the one making the decisions, planning the hits, ordering the hits, etc etc.” And all of that is true. Lance did most of the work for Allura. She spent her days maintaining the morale and larger scale things of the crime unit. Unfortunately, Lance is stuck with being the guy who handles everything else. 

 

“Yeah, okay…” Hunk pushed away Lance’s arm, walking out of the room to let the other finish getting ready. No way in hell did Hunk approve of Lance meeting the guy trying to actually, without a doubt,  _ kill  _ him… But Lance does what he wants. And once Lance has his mindset, there’s no changing it. No matter how many times you pester him about it. 

 

With another look in the mirror, Lance finished his look with a nice sun hat and a pair of metal round sunglasses. Perfect for the beach. He blew himself a kiss in the mirror and walked out the door to meet his cab. 

  
  


***

Shiro walked up and down the pier, sorting through the insane amount of people. Why would he want to meet here? It’s absolute chaos here! As he drew closer to the end of the boardwalk, the giant crowd of people decreased. Shiro stopped his frantic search to look out onto the water. The setting sun gleamed over the water, causing an array of beautiful reds. It was absolutely breathtaking. 

 

“Is that a Glock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” A familiar voice chimed in from behind him.  _ Lance _ . Shiro turned his head, meeting the playful gaze of his enemy.  _ Damn those sunglasses… Hiding those eyes.  _ And yet again, Lance’s choice of attire baffled him. Short overalls with a baby-blue undershirt and some sandals. Surely this isn’t the big-bad crime lord Shiro’s been hired to kill… Right? 

 

“Both.” Lance hummed a pleased response and winked as he walked to the railing, looking out to the sky. 

 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Apparently, he was thinking the exact same as Shiro. Great minds think alike, don’t they?

 

“Yeah. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen it, though.” Shiro admitted, taking the few steps forward to stand beside Lance. For a moment they both stood in silence, just taking in the view. But Shiro quickly reminded himself why he’s here. And it’s 100%  _ not  _ to flirt with the cute target. 

 

“Why did you want to meet me?” Shiro demanded, his demeanor changing within seconds. The younger man scowled, obviously annoyed that Shiro ruined the moment. 

“Can’t I just meet the person trying to kill me?” He asked as he pulled a lollipop from his pocket, opening it and shoving it in his mouth within a matter of seconds. 

 

“Why? How did you get my number?” Lance sucked on the lollipop, obviously trying to make numerous innuendos. They were  _ very  _ hard to ignore from Shiro’s side. 

 

“Oh, Kashi… I have my ways. I’m not some lowly gang member like most people think. I have resources.” Another over-exaggerated lick of his lollipop. _ Fuck. That’s going to be the end of me _ . Shiro thought constantly, resisting the urge to just have his way with Lance over this railing. The other man could obviously see the effect he was having, which only encouraged him even more. 

 

“What makes you think I won’t kill you right here, hm?” Shiro pat the brass knuckles in his pockets and the small Glock. Instead of backing down, however, Lance simply laughed. He genuinely laughed. “What’s so funny?” Shiro’s eyes narrowed, taking a step back in precaution. 

 

“Because I know you won’t.” Lance smiled, wiggling his brows. 

 

“Why’s that?” Lance closed the gap between them, leaning in close to Shiro’s ear. The short, hot breathes hit the base of Shiro’s neck, sending shivers down his spine.

 

“Because then you won’t get to have your fun with me.” The words rang in Shiro’s ear, setting him off guard. He wasn’t wrong, which is the disturbing part. If this was any other regular job, the target would be dead and thrown in a ditch somewhere. But Lance… Something’s different about him. Maybe it’s the way he dresses or the way he speaks with such confidence and ease. Or maybe it’s the fact he’s all of those things and he’s killed people on top of that. The thought of Lance ending someone’s life  _ excited  _ Shiro. 

 

While Shiro was lost in his (sexual) thoughts about Lance, the Cuban man had already started to walk off and talk to another guy on the pier. Reality slammed back into Shiro’s brain within seconds as he noticed Lance  _ flirting  _ with  _ another  _ guy. Someone that’s  _ not  _ Shiro. He watched as Lance laughed with the man, eventually getting closer and closer. They were close enough to see, but far away enough to be out of hearing distance. But Shiro made out two  _ very  _ obvious words.

 

“Call me,” Lance said with such ease, slipping a piece of paper with his phone number in the man’s back pocket, letting his hand linger there for a little longer than needed. Then as quickly as the interaction came about, it ended. Lance winked at the taller stranger, then walked away. 

 

So there he stood. Alone on the Santa Monica Pier, staring at a complete stranger that Lance had flirted with. 

 

***

**_The next morning…_ **

_ From: Champion  _

_ [Photo delivered] _

 

“Who the  _ fuck  _ is ruining spa time?” Lance groaned when his phone made its usual dinging noise. But his disdain was short lived once he picked it up to see just who this rude intruder was. Shocked, Lance stared at the home screen of his phone, a smirk appearing on his face.  _ Oh? What’s this? Hopefully something naughty.  _ He quickly wiped off the remaining face mask off his hands, tapping his password. 

 

_ [Photo downloading…..]  _

 

_ [100% complete] _

 

He tapped the photo, his eyes going wide with shock. In the photo was Shiro holding the severed head of the guy Lance gave his number to on the pier. He zoomed in closer to Shiro’s face, laughing at the hitman’s cheeky smirk and his ironic use of the peace sign. Shiro was covered in blood, but that only made Lance more turned on than anything. 

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Think before you flirt next time.  _

 

_ From: Lance _

_ Oh? You don’t own me, Shirogane.  _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Yet. _

 

_ From: Lance _

_ Until then, you’ll have lots of heads to cut off. That’ll be time-consuming, no?  _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ I have all the time in the world, babe. _

 

Lance genuinely smiled at the last text from his future murderer, biting his lip to hold back his teenage-girl emotions. It took everything in him not to yell or squeal with excitement. He had Takashi Shirogane, the best merc money can buy, chasing after him. And Lance loved every second of it.  


	3. Little Lion Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the holiday season can bring together the worst of enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late Christmas chapter! I've been getting shit ready for boot camp. Also, Jewish Shiro is my LIFE because I'm Jewish so deal with it???  
> Also, I noticed how I keep writing these always at 3-4 AM. Never earlier. Never later. Send help.

**Christmas Day**

 

“How does Chinese sound?” Keith asked, flipping through a local Chinese restaurant menu. If there was one downside to Christmas, it’s that everything is closed. Except for their precious Chinese food. It’s a tradition that they’ve held onto since they were just small kids. If Chanukkah didn’t fall on Christmas, they’d order takeout and watch dumb movies all day long. Luckily for them, Chanukkah has been over for almost a week now. Which meant their beloved Chinese food tradition could continue this year. 

 

“Perfect. Cashew chicken and egg drop soup for me.” Shiro called out from the couch, not even looking up from his book. Unfortunately, the holidays meant slow work. Apparently, most people didn’t want to hire a hitman to kill someone during Christmas season. 

 

“Alright. I just ordered it on the computer, so shouldn’t take too long,” Keith plopped down next to Shiro on the couch, pulling a nearby blanket over his lap, “By the way… Have you finished that hit against that guy yet? Y’know… The guy that almost killed you.” Keith casually mentioned. He’s noticed Shiro has been leaving the house more often but doesn’t say where he’s going. Half the time he comes back covered in blood. Yet there are no ongoing hits in their books. With a loud sigh and an eye-roll, Shiro slams his book shut. 

 

“Why? What’s it to you, Keith?” Shiro’s eyes narrowed, obviously getting his defenses ready. 

 

“Uh Maybe because you got that hit almost a month ago and haven’t completed it yet! What’s gotten into you, Shiro?! You never take this long to finish a hit.” Keith lectured, his eyes going from judging and harsh to soft. A part of him really thought something was wrong. 

 

“Nothing’s wrong. I just… Need more time is all. Maybe I want to play around with him,” He paused, thinking of what to say, “Like a lion going after their prey.” Shiro shrugged, trying to shake Keith off his back. His brother really did worry way too much.

 

“Just- Just get it done. You know how much I hate open cases.” Keith mumbled, snatching the remote and turning on the TV to fill their uncomfortable silence. 

 

**_Buz_ **

 

Shiro reached onto the coffee table, opening his phone. A message. 

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Merry Crisis :^) _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Don’t you mean Christmas? _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ … It’s a Vine, Takashi. _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ A what? _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Nevermind. Merry Christmas, Champion.  _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Sorry, dear, but I celebrate Chanukkah. Maybe next year.  _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Then Happy HanuCOCK. _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ As endearing as that is, you missed it by a week.  _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Sorry... I’ll make it up to you today.  _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ The usual spot in 2 hours? _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ See you there xoxo ;^) _

 

Shiro sighed, locking his phone and throwing it back onto the table. The two of them have been occasionally meeting at the bar they originally met in. Much to Shiro’s dismay, they haven’t done more than meet, drink, and flirt. Each time Shrio thinks he has Lance cracked, he gets away. Leaving Shiro behind with not only a raging hard-on but even more furious and determined than before. He’ll do anything to get that twisted, crazy, and irresistible boy that looks just  _ so good _ in the color blue. Shiro knows that Lance has him wrapped around his finger, and it just makes it even better for him. 

 

“What are you watching?” Shiro asked softly, pulling some of Keith’s blanket over him. Keith gave a soft glare, but let it slide. 

 

“The Santa Clause.” He grumbled, resting his feet on the table. Shiro didn’t say a word. He just sat there in silence with his younger brother, watching the comedic film. The occasional laugh escaped their lips, enjoying the other’s company. 

 

**_Knock, knock, knock_ **

 

“That must be the food,” Keith pointed to the stack of cash on the counter, “There’s the money plus a tip.” Annoyed that he was the one having to leave the comfortable warmth and couch, Shiro stood and snatched the cash, opening the door. The exchange was short, but the reward was very nice. The smell of Chinese food filled the small apartment, leaving their mouths practically drooling. Within seconds they had the containers opened and already half empty by the time they got back to the couch. 

 

“Fuck, this is  _ so  _ good.” Keith’s eyes closed from the pure bliss as he took bite after bite. The older brother simply laughed, shoving the chicken down his throat and practically drinking the soup. The two of them sat there, not caring about anything else in the world. All that mattered was their food, their movie, and the fact they both still had each other. 

 

***

 

“Sir, here’s that file you wanted,” A man dressed in a pressed, black suit said calmly as he handed over a manila folder. The brunette gave a coy smile, taking the folder from the other slowly. “It’s everything we could find.” 

 

“Gracias, Jim. I’m sure it’ll be all I need.” Lance laid the manila folder on top of the bar counter, sighing. When he first found out about Shiro’s hit on him, he knew he had to find out everything about his little fan. After another long gulp of his beer, he opened the folder and began to read it. Even Hunk was anxious to see what the contents of the folder held. 

 

“What’s in it?” Hunk asked softly, glancing over Lance’s shoulder. From what Hunk saw in his quick glance, there wasn’t much in that file. 

 

“Well, Hunk, looks can be deceiving. There’s more in here than I thought there’d be for sure,” He paused, reading the contents one more time, “Major in the Marine Corps, served for  _ 13 years,  _ no family besides a brother, amputee, expert marksman, and lead numerous missions--his last being Kerberos. I’m guessing that’s when he lost his arm,” Lance didn’t look up form the file once, in complete awe of what he’s reading. “And apparently went missing on the Kerberos mission. They found him and his crew a year later...” Lance sat there to take it all in. All around, Shiro seemed like a good guy. He graduated Garrison College with honors, ranked up quickly, and seemed like an amazing leader. What happened? How did he turn into… the Shiro he knows now? Not that he’s complaining or anything! But it just seems… odd. 

 

“Well… he’s got an amazing kill record for someone with a missing arm.” Hunk joked, taking a quick shot. He’s sure as hell going to need it. Once Lance’s mind got set on something, he’ll obsess over it. 

 

“I know, it’s hot, right?” Lance bit his lip, looking at the numerous photos provided. Most of them were of Shiro in his dress blues or in his cammies. “ _ Especially _ when he’s wearing that sexy uniform.” Hunk groaned, motioning for another shot. Immediately after it was poured, it went straight down the hatch. Hopefully, he’d be drunk enough to forget Lance ever said that. 

“Isn’t he supposed to be here soon?” Hunk asked his head in his hands. As he rubbed his eyes, Hunk actively tried to erase the past five minutes from his mind. It wasn’t working. Not one bit. 

 

“Yeah. It’s been about 2 hours since he texted me last,” Lance suddenly gasped, looking down at himself, “Do I even look okay?!” Lance shrieked as he tugged at his royal blue crop-top, then began to fiddle with the plaid shirt tied around his waist, which gave warmth to his exposed legs. Lance put a lot of thought into how he looked every day, but he wanted to be sure he looked  _ especially  _ nice for his hitman.

 

Before Hunk could even look at Lance to answer, the door of the bar swung open. The cold air made Lance shiver, but when he turned to see who it was, the cold didn’t seem to bother him anymore.   _ Shiro.  _

 

“I think you look amazing,” Shiro winked, walking over to Lance and his friend, taking a seat on the left side of his target, “But a little cold.” And without another thought, he took the leather jacket off his body, wrapping it around Lance. It looked  _ really  _ big on him. But just seeing Lance wrapped in his clothes made Shiro’s thoughts turn dark. 

 

“I was fine, thank you very much.” Lance stuck out his tongue, motioning for drinks for them. Lance’s gaze went from Shiro’s face down to his arms.  _ ‘Nice and buff.’  _ He thought to himself. But his right arm stuck out like a sore thumb. A prosthetic. Shiro could tell Lance noticed the arm, feeling slightly self-conscious for the first time since he met the guy. If there was one soft spot Shiro had besides Keith, it’s his arm. 

 

“Never see a fake arm before, babe?” Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow. Surely Lance should know he has a prosthetic, right? 

 

“Oh, I have… But I’ve never seen yours.” Lance reached over, running his fingers over the cool metal. He’s never seen something so… High-tech before, “Mind if I ask what happened, soldier?”

 

Shiro laughed, “I’m not one anymore. It’s a long story, so to make it short, I’ll just say this: I let the bad guys get me.” He watched as Lance’s hand touched the metal, examining it almost in awe. For the first time since he got it, someone looked at him with something other than uneasiness. It was… refreshing. 

 

“Aren’t you one of the bad guys,” Lance asked, looking up into Shiro’s eyes. For a moment Shiro was lost in those damned beautiful blue eyes. _‘Those eyes will be the death of me.’_ Shiro thought to himself.

 

“No. I’m a good guy with an…  _ alternative  _ agenda.” Shiro’s devious smile made its way up his face. Lance could only smirk, suppressing a laugh. This Hitman is different than the others Lance has ever worked with or faced. “I like that,” Lance whispered, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s prosthetic arm, holding on tight. 

 

“I’ll just uh… I’ll leave you two.” Hunk mumbled, standing up and walking to the back room. Of course, neither of them noticed him even exiting. They’re apparently too wrapped up in their own thing. 

 

“Merry Christmas.”

 

“Happy week-late Chanukkah,” Lance mumbled, laying his head on Shiro’s shoulder. The both of them just sat there, drinking their beers and making small talk. Which was completely different compared to their previous meetings. But it was… nice. Just sitting and drinking was good for a change.

 

“Hey, Kashi?” Lance asked, letting go of the bigger man and sitting up straight. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Ready for me to make it up to you?” Lance wiggled his eyebrows with a smirk.

 

“I’m ready anytime, baby.” Lance jumped down from his seat at the counter, slipping his arms through Shiro’s jacket. Nice and warm.

 

“Come on and follow me, Little lion man.” Lance grabbed Shiro by the back of his shirt, pulling him along. He put up no contest, happily following the other’s lead. Inside Shiro's heart, he knew this was a very, very bad idea considering what he knew the other was capable of. But none of it mattered right now. Throwing caution to the wind, he decided for once to follow his heart and not his head. 

 

_ ‘Lord help me. He’ll be the death of me. I know it. _ ’ Shiro thought, ‘ _ But fuck it.’ _


	4. Night Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro gets his present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone can catch the Ludo references, I'll be your BFF.

The backroom office of the bar was dimly lit, only a single light bulb illuminating the small room. The only furniture in the room was a small desk and chair. But Shiro’s attention drew immediately to the bruised and bloodied man that was tied up to a chair in the center of the room. Lance walked behind the man, ruffling his hands in the stranger’s hair.

 

“Here’s your present, Kashi.” Lance rested his elbow on top of the other’s head. The stranger growled, jerking his head away.

 

“Don’t touch me, you fucking psycho!” He yelled, struggling against the restraints. In an instant, Lance’s fist met the other’s face, which promptly shut the man up. Lance walked over to the desk, jumping up on it and sitting. He crossed his legs, watching Shiro intently, “I thought you’d want something to take your anger out on.” 

 

“I’m not particularly angry right now,” Shiro said softly, eyeing the groaning man up and down. He began to circle him like a lion would its prey. 

 

“You will after I tell you what he did to me,” Lance said with a pout. That got Shiro’s immediate attention. With a smirk, Lance continued, “He came begging me for help. I gave it to him in return for payments. When I went to collect my payment, he refused. Then he  _ grabbed  _ me and  _ hurt  _ me. Bruised me all up, too.” Shiro promptly was at Lance’s side, gently taking his arm to examine the bruises. They were faint, but still there. 

 

Rage began to course through Shiro’s veins as he looked back and forth between Lance and the stranger before him. Not only did he even dare to touch  _ his  _ Lance, but he left marks behind. The adrenaline ran through his body, causing his vision to get hazy for a moment. He hasn’t felt this much anger in a  _ long  _ time. 

 

“Is that so?” He said between clenched teeth, squaring up to the man. His eyes narrowed as he lowered his body to be at eye-level with his prey, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

“I say fuck you! And fuck that psychopathic twink boyfriend of yours!” The man scathed, looking at an amused Lance, spitting right onto him. 

 

“Oh, you fucked up with that, buddy.” A dark, cynical smile appeared on him, his aura darkening. He reached and grabbed the man’s throat, gripping it tightly, “You’re not so tough now, are you?” Shiro smirked, picking the man up by his throat now. Lance watched from the sidelines, licking his lips. When Shiro got into this state, he was absolutely mesmerizing. Lance couldn’t help but imagine Shiro’s cold hands wrapped around his neck while he completely wrecked Lance. That very thought made Lance want to have his way with Shiro immediately.  _ ‘No. Not yet.’ _ He thought to himself, shaking his head and those thoughts away. 

 

The man gasped for air desperately, tears falling down his face. His struggle against the restraints grew more violent with each passing second. In fear that he’d pass out too quickly, Shiro let go of the man, letting him drop to the floor. The stranger simply coughed violently, gasping for air. 

 

“P-please! I’ll pay him! I won’t touch him again!” He begged between desperate gasps of air. Shiro let out a loud laugh, reaching down into his boots and pulling out his two stiletto pocket knives. He stood there, examining their gleam in the dim light. Panic arose in the man as his begging grew more and more anxious. “Please, don’t do this! I’ll give you whatever you want!” He sobbed, watching Shiro with wide eyes. 

 

“Whatever I want?” The man nodded frantically.

 

“Yes! Anything!” Shiro tapped the blade against his chin, thinking for a hot second. But he squatted to the other’s eye level, smiling deviously. 

 

“I know what I want.”

 

“What is it? You’ll have it by midnight tonight!” Shiro shoved his hand into the man’s mouth, gripping onto the man’s tongue. He easily ignored the man’s attempt at biting him. That only made Shiro more determined.

 

“I’m tired of listening to you beg so much. Daddy likes his peace and quiet.” And with a swift movement of his blade, he began to saw through the other’s tongue. The screams coming from the man were deafening, but his screams soon turned to choking. Blood poured from the man’s mouth, but still, the overwhelming amount of the critical liquid overtook him. Shiro gripped the newly severed tongue in his hand, watching intently as the man in front of him slowly suffocated in his own blood. 

 

_ ‘Holy  _ fuck _ , that’s hot. _ ’ Lance thought to himself as he watched Shiro kill the man who had hurt him once before. The fact Shiro would do anything for Lance (even murder) without question made him  _ very  _ turned on. He really lived up to his reputation. The Cuban man gripped onto the desk tightly, trying to suppress those thoughts for now. 

 

“This is what happens when you fuck with  _ my  _ target.” Shiro scathed, kicking the chair that held the dying man hostage over to the ground. He stood there and watched as the choking noises slowly stopped, the room falls silent. Shiro looked over at Lance, who looked completely unphased by the whole ordeal. 

 

“ _Your_ _target_? I’m hurt, Takashi, I thought I was more than that.” Lance gripped his chest dramatically, faking how upset he was. 

 

“You’re first and foremost my target. I was hired to kill you, and trust me, I will.” Lance didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply stared straight at the Hitman in front of him. A part of Lance didn’t want to believe him. A hot second later, he jumped to his feet and stood face to face to Shiro. He looked up with a smirk.

 

“If you really wanted to kill me… Wouldn’t I be six feet under by now?” His voice was soft but still playful. He reached out, laying his hand on Shiro’s chest, gently. “What are you waiting for?” He leaned him, his lips gracing Shiro’s neck. His breath hitched at the featherlike lightness of Lance’s touch. He wanted more. 

 

“I won’t be denied by you anymore,” Shiro growled. He’s getting sick and tired of these games with Lance. He wants more.  _ More, more, more.  _ Lance laughed quietly at that, sticking out his tongue and licking up Shiro’s neck. Shiro let out an audible gasp from the sudden contact. He spent so much time deprived of physical contact with Lance that he wanted more.  _ More, more, more.  _ “I’ll fill the graveyards until I have.” 

 

“Get used to it.” Lance smiled, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck, putting their foreheads together, “Thanks for taking care of him.” Lance whispered out, reluctantly pulling away. He slipped Shiro a piece of paper and without another word, he opened the door of the office and walked off. 

 

“Fuck!” Shiro cursed, clenching his fists. He always did this! He always left Shiro wanting more. It’s almost unbearable at this point. Shiro needed him. If it meant having to kill every single person in this damned city, he’d do it. He’ll never be satisfied until he has him. He looked down at the now crumpled paper, opening it. An address? What is this?

 

In a fit of anger, Shiro went to the corpse, stomping in the skull within a few easy tries. Huffing out of anger, he stomped his way out of the bar. 

 

***

“Are you sure this is still a good idea?” Hunk asked nervously, tapping his fingers on the table. After Shiro left, Lance fetched his longtime friend to discuss their business. Which just so happened to be their one and only Champion.

 

“Oh, of course. He’s so desperate. He’ll do anything I want him to.” Lance fiddled with his switchblade, watching the blade pop out and go back in over and over. 

 

“You don’t think this’ll blow up in our faces, though right?” 

 

“Not in the slightest,” Lance sighed. At first, this started out as a simple way to get free work from the best hitman in the area. But now… The Altean couldn’t help but think of Shiro’s eyes and the way his eyes get when he’s angry. Lance could touch himself to the very thought of it right now, “If I’m being honest, Hunk, I want more from him than just a pawn.”

 

“What do you mean?” Lance clicked the blade out, staring at it intensely before stabbing it into the wooden table.

 

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” 

 

***

**The same night, 8 PM**

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Awake? _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Of course. _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ You never sleep. You’ll get bags under your eyes. _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Can’t ever sleep. Besides, bags are the least of my problems it seems. _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Why can’t you sleep? :^/ _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Thinking about a certain man that loves the color blue. _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Sounds kinky. Specifics? _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ I want him stuffed into my mouth. Hold him down and tear him open and live inside him. But love, I’d never hurt him. _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ He sounds like a lucky guy ;^) Think you could do that to me? _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ I can arrange that.  _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Looking forward to it, Takashi. Break my skin and drain me. _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Oh, I’ll do more than just that, babe. _

 

_ *** _

**The next morning, 3:00 AM**

 

The crisp air filling Shiro’s lungs as he shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. The streets were completely abandoned at this hour, which is perfect for what he’s about to do. A part of him still can’t believe he’s doing this… But lately, he’s been listening to his heart more often. The pavement beneath his boots made the only sounds within a reasonable distance. 

 

He took in a deep breath, digging into his pockets and pulling out the crumpled paper from yesterday afternoon. It’s a longshot, but maybe Lance will be where this leads him. Shiro would take that chance any day. 

 

He walked for another 30 minutes until he strolled upon a small apartment complex. Maybe 4 units or so in here. He looked down at the paper once more.

 

**2B**

 

Shiro walked over the unit, scoping it out. The blinds blocked his vision and the only way inside the place was either the front door or the back door. Shiro decided the back door would be the safest bet. He had no clue what awaited him behind those doors. It could be Lance… Or it could be a trap. He could die here tonight all because he trusted someone he really shouldn’t be trusting in the first place. 

 

As quietly as possible, Shiro pulled out his lock pick and went to work. This is how he usually snuffed out his targets--in their own home at night. He always thought it was the easiest since your chances of being seen were lowered dramatically. And since he had so much practice, it didn’t even take that long to get inside. 

 

‘ _ Be quiet… _ ’ Shiro thought as he slowly opened the door, shimming his way inside without a noise. The only sound that could be heard was the whirling of the ceiling fan. The apartment was small and as far as Shiro saw, it only had one bedroom. He walked quietly throughout the living room, looking at all the numerous photos of him and that Samoan guy he saw at the bar. The occasional family photo hung, but nothing really told Shiro anything. 

 

As he made his way to the bedroom, the sound of the fan grew louder. _ ‘He must be asleep… _ ’ Shiro drew closer, pushing the door open, cringing at the creaking noise it made.  _ ‘Fuck _ !’ Shiro panicked slightly, but didn’t hear anyone move inside. 

 

He slipped into the bedroom, turning to his left and immediately seeing the bed. And in that bed he saw… Lance. He seemed so relaxed when he slept… As if all the weight of his occupation was suddenly lifted from him. If there was one fact Shiro knew about Lance, it’s that he  _ loved  _ the color blue. And even while Lance slept, he still donned that damned color. But the most endearing feature was Lance’s sleep mask. It was blue (of course) with white, cursive letters over the front, “ _ Fuck off~”  _ embroidered. Shiro just had to smile at that. He even had a Glock laying on his nightstand next to him. 

 

As he went to step closer to the beautiful man in front of him, the floors creaked loudly. Shiro immediately stepped back to where he was, but it was no use. Lance shot up from his bed, grabbing the Glock, pointing it at Shiro.

 

“Who the fuck is there!?” Shiro put his hands in the air.

 

“Relax. It’s me.” Lance visibly relaxed, laying the Glock back onto the nightstand. 

 

“What are you doing here?” 

 

“I’m here to eat you slowly.” Shiro walked closer, slowly crawling onto the bed over to Lance. Lance didn’t move an inch as Shiro crawled over him, straddling the younger man. He’s been waiting for this. This is it. 

 

Shiro grabbed Lance’s chin, pulling him only centimeters away from his lips. “I’ve wanted to rip you open and eat you alive since the moment I saw your picture in my file.” 

 

“Then what are you waiting for?” Lance breathed out, his cheeks heating up. Shiro took that as permission and brought Lance’s lips to his own. Lance’s lips were not only warm, but so soft. The taste of his peppermint chapstick on Shiro’s tongue only reaffirmed the fact that he’s  _ not dreaming.  _ Through a series of low moans and wandering hands, the pair made sure to show each other just how much they’ve been wanting the other. 

 

To Lance, time has stopped. The room around him spun and the sounds of Shiro’s hot, heavy breaths filled his ears like music. They’re  _ kissing _ . They’re kissing and it feels  _ good _ . It feels  _ right _ .

 

To Shiro, he’s kissing the man he’s supposed to kill. But the sounds of Lance’s low moans and the way his lips seem to fit Shiro’s  _ perfectly  _ remind him that he’s alive. That  _ they’re  _ alive. And that for now, he’s more than a target. Lance is so much more than that now. And Shiro would do  _ anything  _ to make it stay that way. 

 

Reluctantly, Shiro pulled away from their kiss, looking down at his and Lance’s bulges. 

 

“We got a situation, Takashi.” Lance smiled up at him, winking.  _ God, that smile. _ Shiro smirked, looking over at the nightstand and grabbing the Glock.

 

“This thing loaded?” 

 

“No.” Lance watched as Shiro cocked the gun to make sure. When he was positive it was empty, a devious smile appeared on his lips. 

 

“Now we can really have some fun. How do you feel about  _ blood _ ?” 

 

“Oh, I prefer it.” Lance wiggled his eyebrows once more, running his hands up Shiro’s shirt. “Are you going to fuck me or not?” He whined.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. I’ll do more than just that.” 


	5. Horror of Our Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Lance have their fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all NSFW. If you don't like that, then you can skip this chapter. I purposely am splitting up the NSFW from the rest of the story just for this reason. 
> 
> Also, if you read my other shance porn fic, you'll notice it's also a heavy daddy kink. I'm sorry if you don't like the daddy kink, but I CAN'T HELP IT!!!

One thing that drove Shiro crazy was Lance’s perfect skin. Not only was it smooth and soft, but it was also flawless. There wasn’t a single scar on his body. Shiro found out this pleasant fact through the dizzying and lustful act of taking off Lance’s loose, blue pajamas, throwing them onto the floor. He kicked off his boots, making sure to grab the stiletto pocket knives, placing them on the nightstand, and clumsily threw his layers of clothing off across the room. 

 

His eyes took in every single inch of Lance’s now exposed body. Part of him wanted to place kisses all up and down him, but the other part wanted to see what he looked like when he bleeds. To see that beautiful, dark skin covered in cuts. The mere thought of it sent Shiro crazy. 

 

“Come on big boy, don’t leave me waiting,” Lance said through hot and heavy breaths. Shiro’s body was everything he imagined and  _ more _ . Sure, Lance knew he had muscles. But he didn’t know Shiro’s body was littered with scars. ‘ _ Probably from when he was missing on Kerberos… _ ’ Lance thought to himself, running his long, slender fingers over the numerous abrasions. 

 

“You don’t mind them… the scars, right?” Shiro asked sheepishly. Most people didn’t get the pleasure of seeing him completely naked and vulnerable, so he didn’t know what to expect when it came to his disfigurements. 

 

“Mind them? Scars are fucking hot, Takashi,” Lance ran his hands up Shiro’s chest, “but I am more turned on by that now.” Lance winked, reaching up and placing a kiss on Shiro’s neck. He bit down, sucking at Shiro’s skin. The only marks Lance wanted on Shiro from now on were marks made from passion, not from hate. 

 

After leaving a thorough amount of marks on Shiro’s neck, Lance’s hand clumsily made its way to the nightstand drawer, digging around for certain objects. Moments later, his search produced a bottle of lube and a condom. Eagerly, Shiro swiped the lube from Lance, applying it to his fingers. He watched how Lance’s eyes sparkled even in the darkness of the bedroom. He leaned down to Lance, pressing their foreheads together. He wanted to see every single detail of Lance’s expressions. 

 

Lance let out a soft moan, feeling a cold finger enter him. He arched his back to the feeling, wanting more.  _ More, more, more.  _ His eyes fixated on Shiro’s as he ran his fingers through the other’s hair, pulling. 

 

“Fuck, Lance-” Shiro muttered, rewarding Lance with another finger inside him, basking in Lance’s soft moans and heavy breaths, “You sound so hot.” He purred, using his other hand to grab the pocket knives. They glinted from the little light that shone through the window, their sharp edges accentuated. Carefully, Shiro ran the tip of the blade from Lance’s temple all the way down his cheek and finally resting on his chin. 

 

“I thought you were going to break my skin and drain me?” Lance teased, watching Shiro’s eyes widen from the comment. 

 

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” Shiro pulled out his fingers, ignoring Lance’s protests. Just to get on Lance’s nerves, he went excruciatingly slow with putting on the condom that Lance pulled out earlier. And it was completely undoing Lance. 

 

“I swear to God, Shiro, if you don’t hurry up, I’ll cut your throat.” Lance’s voice was completely serious, but that didn’t phase Shiro in the slightest. He threw the wrapper to the floor then lifted his head to meet Lance’s eyes. With a quick movement, he grabbed Lance by the throat and pinned him against the headboard. 

 

“Oh yeah? I’d love to see you try.” Shiro gave a dark smile, picking the knife back up and cutting a thin, shallow line down his shoulder. Lance winced at the sharp pain but found himself wanting more. A thin line of blood fell down his shoulder, which Shiro gratefully licked up. ‘ _ Fuck, that’s hot. _ ’ Lance thought, watching as Shiro licked his lips with a smile. The knife rested comfortably on Lance’s throat. 

 

“Last time I checked, I’m the one with a knife to  _ your _ throat.” His voice was sinister, and it shook Lance to his core. But, surprisingly, not in a bad way. The cool blade’s edge pressed into his skin, but not hard enough to break. Shiro reluctantly pulled his hand away, applying lube to his cock. Lance watched as Shiro stroked himself, moaning from the pleasure. “Spread your legs,” Shiro commanded. Obientantly, Lance laid his head on the pillow again, spreading his legs apart. 

 

Shiro lined himself up with Lance, slowly pushing himself inside the other. He threw his head back with the pleasure, letting moans escape him. Lance felt so fucking good on his cock. As if he was meant only for Shiro. Lance grabbed onto the sheets, arching his back. 

 

“Ah-” Lance closed his eyes, getting used to the feeling of Shiro inside him. 

 

“Hush, hush…” Shiro shushed as he started to thrust into Lance slowly. He made sure that Lance could feel every inch of his cock inside him. “We’re just getting started…” He muttered, starting to set a pace. He reached on the nightstand for the gun, holding it against Lance’s forehead. 

 

“You’re lucky this isn’t loaded,” Shiro growled, pressing it into his skull harder. Lance simply smirked, opening his eyes. 

 

“Oh yeah? Would you- ah, fuck- shoot me, Kashi?” He stumbled out through a series of moans and curses. 

 

“Haven’t decided yet.” Shiro lowered the gun from Lance’s forehead, grazing it across his chest, “Open wide for daddy, now.” Shiro grabbed Lance’s chin, forcing the gun into the other’s mouth. He held the gun there, listening to Lance’s gagged noises.  _ Fuck _ .

Shiro continued to fuck Lance a little faster, basking in the distorted pleasurable yells that came from Lance.  _ ‘Fuck _ !’ Shiro thought, fucking him a little harsher. _ ‘I want to hear him yell  _ more _. _ ’ 

 

“Oh, you like that?” Lance nodded, attempting to speak despite the gun in his mouth. Tears welled in Lance’s eyes, but not from displeasure or from pain. The fact is, this is the best sex he’s had in a hot minute. And the way Shiro hit his prostate with such vigor only put him on the edge more and more with each thrust. 

 

“Are you wanting to cum?” Lance nodded, muffling out a ‘yes.’ Shiro smirked, pulling the Glock out of his lover’s mouth. 

 

“Say my name when you cum.” Shiro threw the gun recklessly to the other side of the bed, cupping Lance’s cheek, looking him straight in the eyes. He wanted to hear it more than anything- Lance yelling out his name as he came. He’s thought about it each sleepless night, imagining what he’d sound like when he jerked himself off. And now that’s about to become a reality. 

 

Shiro changed his pace, fucking Lance slower, but deeper. Lance was so close. His yells got louder and louder until-

 

“Ah- fuck, Takashi-” Lance gripped the sheets tightly and arched his back, but never broke their eye contact as he finished, cum dripping onto his stomach. To Shiro, it was a beautiful sight. Seeing the man he’s been lusting after for so fucking long cumming because of  _ him _ . 

 

It sent Shiro completely over the edge. Moments later, he came into Lance, filling him up. Shiro let out a loud moan, gripping onto Lance’s hips for dear life. It was a million times better than anything he could have imagined those sleepless nights. He came to a stop, his grip on Lance loosening. Panting, he pulled out of his lover, taking the condom off and (like everything else) he threw it on the floor. 

 

“You look so fucking good like that, baby,” Shiro muttered, grabbing ahold of the stiletto knife once more. “You’ll look even better with this-” And without hesitation, Shiro carved a heart with ‘TS’ in the middle right on Lance’s chest. Lance bit his lip, wincing from the pain. 

 

“It won’t scar… But for now,” Shiro bent his head down, licking up the blood once more, “You know to whom you belong.” Lance pulled Shiro back up to him, looking him dead in the eyes. 

 

“I’m yours.” 

 

Lance (much to Shiro’s surprise) cuddled up to him, burying his head in the other’s chest. The warmth of his body felt nice pressed against him. The hitman couldn’t help but begin to play with his target’s hair, a soft smile creeping up his face. 

 

“Before I forget… Why do you keep an  _ unloaded _ gun around?”

 

“Scare tactic. Plus, I have you now. I don’t need it anymore.” Lance mumbled with a yawn.

 

“We’ll discuss your lack of proper security later… But for now, sleep.” He kissed the top of Lance’s head, “Goodnight, Lancey Lance.”

 

“G’night Kashi.” And with that, they fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms. Just the way they were meant to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my name's Hector and I just wrote a porn


	6. We'll meet again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro gets scolded by his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, guys! My binder came in today and I'm in such a good mood that this chapter is more on the softer side. I think we all deserve to see some fluff, too. Sorry, this chapter is so short. I wrote it before I went to work. 
> 
> Also, Here's a link to the playlist for this fanfiction! I am always adding new songs. 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/22x3opzhl2mjjxjlti4xry4aa/playlist/0KtqiLTu4JUaqPtJ70Y6WE

_ “What do you want from me?” Shiro screamed out, struggling against the restraints. Not again. Not again.  _ No _. He looked around at the people surrounding him, maks covering their identities. They ignored his cries, chattering amongst themselves. His head darted around the room, taking in every detail. There are machines beeping and showing data in a foreign language.  _

 

_ “Okay, we can start the procedure.” A man holding a scalpel told the others. They all nodded in agreement, crowding around Shiro. _

 

_ “What procedure? What are you doing to me? What the fu-” Shiro’s words were muffled by one of his captures placing a muzzle over his face. ‘ _ What the fuck are they doing to me?’ _ Shiro thought to himself, struggling against the restraints once more. The sounds of electrical tools turning on filled his ears, causing more panic to arise.  _

 

_ “The more you struggle, the more painful it’ll be, 117-9875.” The tallest one smirked down at him. That’s when it hit Shiro-- the incredible, indescribable pain. Shiro’s screams drowned out the sound of the sawing and the tools. ‘ _ What the fuck?! _ ’ He opened his eyes, looking down at his right arm, ‘ _ It’s fucking gone! Where the fuck is it? _!’ She began to panic, looking around at everyone crowding him. They seemed to enjoy this---watching him crumble. But the torture didn’t stop there. Before he knew it, the pain started up again. The screaming once again drowned out everything around him.  _

 

_ That’s when he began shaking, hearing his name called out. _

 

_ “Shiro! Shiro! Wake up!” He opened his eyes again, seeing Lance over him on the operating table, “Wake up!” Lance started shaking him again, “It’s just a dream!” _

 

_ *** _

Shiro’s eyes opened and he immediately shot up in the bed, looking around. Sweat dripped down his forehead and his breathing was heavy. 

 

“Where am I?” Shiro asked softly, the faint memories still lingering in his mind. 

 

“You’re at my place…” Lance said softly, slowly reaching out to brush Shiro’s hair from his eyes. This is the first time Lance has ever seen Shiro so vulnerable. So afraid. Shiro gripped onto the sheets with such force, as if he was holding on for dear life. The phantom pain in his right arm began to flare up again. This always happened when the night terrors happened. 

 

“Are… Are you okay? You were screaming and I thought---” Lance paused, scooting closer to Shiro and wrapped an arm around him, trying his best to comfort him.

 

“I’m sorry I woke you. Usually, they’re not that bad.” Shiro’s voice trailed off, his eyes still not looking up from the sheets. ‘ _ So this happens often…’ _ Lance thought, his grip on Shiro getting tighter. 

“Whatever happened… Just know that if those monsters want you, they’re gonna have to fight me.” Lance whispered in his ear, laying his head on the other’s shoulder. For a few minutes, they just sat there in the silence. Lance tried his best to comfort the shaking man, but he could tell Shiro wasn’t there. Even though he’s awake, he still was stuck in that night terror. 

 

“I, uh… I should go.” Shiro said softly, breaking away from Lance’s hold and stood to his feet. Silently, he put all of his clothes on.  Lance knew better than to try and stop him. So he just sat there and watched the other get ready to leave, a frown on his face the entire time. There’s nothing he could do to help Shiro.  _ ‘Should I even care? He  _ is  _ trying to kill me after all…’ _ Lance glanced down at the cut Shiro previously gave him, running his hand across it,  _ ‘I don’t know… I know I should hate him, but I can’t help but care about him _ .’ Lance smiled at the cut. When he looked back up, the other man was gone. 

 

“Well, he sure can disappear fast,” Lance mumbled, looking around his empty bedroom. Great. He’s alone again. Reluctantly, Lance forced himself out of bed and walked to his bathroom for a shower. Time to get ready for another day of bullshit. 

 

***

“Where the  _ fuck  _ have you been?” Keith scolded immediately as Shiro walked through the door. He waited all night for Shiro to come home, but to his surprise, Shiro never showed up. Which not only scared him but pissed him off. 

 

“I was out,” Shiro mumbled, walking past Keith to go to his room. But the younger brother grabbed Shiro by the shoulder, pulling him back. 

 

“ _ No _ . You can’t just walk away like that when you don’t want to talk to me.” Keith’s tone was serious. 

 

“I’m tired.” Shiro deadpanned, looking at Keith with a blank expression. Why does he always pick fights when he’s fucking tired?

 

“So am I! Wanna know why?” Keith paused for dramatic effect, “I was up all night waiting for you to come home. I thought you were  _ dead _ , Shiro.” 

 

“Well, unfortunately, you’re still stuck with me. Can I go to bed now?”

 

“No! You can’t!” Keith yelled, his temper growing, “I put up with your mood swings. I put up with your line of work. And I put up with your bitterness… But I will  _ not  _ put up with you just leaving me alone without telling me where you are.” Shiro’s expression didn’t change. “I already had to spend a year thinking you were dead. I don’t want to feel that again.” Keith’s gaze went to the floor as he bit his lip.

 

“You’ve changed, you know… You’re not the same Shiro from before. You’re so bitter and cold...” Keith’s voice was soft.

 

“I think anyone would be bitter and cold after being held captive and tortured for a year, Keith.” Shiro’s voice was tense, his eyes narrowing. Keith knew Shiro hated talking about what happened to him. Even bringing up that time of his life made Shiro angry. 

 

“I know that… That’s why I never said anything… When you told me about what you did for a living, did I complain? No. I helped you. When you wake up screaming in the middle of the night, who comes to your side? Me.” Keith paused, trying to hold back the tears that welled in his eyes. “I just… Sometimes I miss the old you. I miss the Shiro that would play the guitar for me when I was upset. Or the Shiro that was practically the dad we never had. I miss him.” Keith’s voice was small--like a mouse. Shiro was silent for a moment, looking down at his brother. 

 

“Well, that was a long time ago. This is who I am now. Either get used to it or leave. No one’s making you stay here if you don’t want to.” And with that, Shiro turned around and walked to his room. Behind him stood his younger brother Keith, who just stared at the floor, finally letting the tears fall. 

 

***

“What do you mean McClain isn’t dead?” A man growled. He slammed his fist on the table, biting his lip in frustration. He opened the file in front of him. 

 

“Senator Lotor, he was spotted the other day with The Champion.” A woman said, her voice wavering. Her boss was absolutely terrifying when he was like this.

 

“Well then, Acxa, what are we going to do about that?” Lotor asked, flipping through the file in front of him. Numerous pictures of both Lance and Shiro laid sprawled out in front of him. 

 

“We could kill McClain ourselves.” She suggested.

 

“But then that would leave Champion off the hook, oh no. He didn’t do his job. He should be punished.” Lotor laid his head on his hand as he flipped through the photos, finally spotting one of interest. 

 

“Of course, Senator.” Acxa agreed, watching him intently. Lotor handed her the photo with a smirk. 

 

“Champion has a weakness. And it’s that right there.” Acxa looked at it, a smile creeping up her face, “Keith Kogane.” She laid the photo back on the table, pulling out her phone.

 

“We’ll begin the arrangements immediately, Senator.” 


	7. Unsteady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro discovers something horrible.

**A week later…**

“Nice shot!” Shiro smiled, looking down the firing range at the paper target. Another headshot. Lance already got four in a row, all within half an inch of each other. Lance looked up at Shiro, clicking the safety on to set it down. They were the only ones in the rifle range, which was really nice. There were no annoying high calibers being shot next to them, making their ears bleed even through the ear protection. 

 

“Yeah, I know,” Lance shrugged nonchalantly, standing to his feet and wrapping his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, “I’m an  _ okay  _ shot.” 

 

“You’re better than that,” Shiro wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist, “You’re amazing.  _ My  _ sharpshooter.” 

 

**“** Yours and  _ only  _ yours.”  Lance leaned up, placing a soft kiss on Shiro’s lips. The two of them have been seeing each other almost every day now. Their escapades grew in numbers and so did their amount of touching, “Maybe now you’ll let me go on a hit with you.”

 

“It’s… It’s really dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

 

“Shiro, darling, you know I’ve killed people before, right? There’s a reason I’m such a good shot… And it’s not just for show.” Shiro stood there for a moment, sighing.

 

“Fine. If you can get three headshots and three bullets in the dead center X, you can go with me.” Lance’s face switched gears, a smirk growing on his face. He let go of Shiro, sitting back down in his firing lane, taking hold of the rifle. 

 

“You’re on.”

 

***

  
  


“I guess this where we part ways, huh?” Lance asked softly, looking at the ground. He gripped onto his gun case tightly, biting his lip. 

 

“Only for now. I’ll see you soon.” Shiro Smiled, escorting Lance to the Uber in front of the shooting range. After he dug into his pocket for a hot minute, Shiro pulled out a $20 bill and handed it to Lance, “This should cover it.” With one last smile, he waved the uber off and watched as it drove away.

 

He began his walk home, feeling the occasional buzz of his phone in his pocket.

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ This Uber driver is weird af. _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ If I hear one more Kesha song, I’ll cry. _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ I miss you pls don’t ignore me. _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Needy today, aren’t we? _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Shooting guns turn me on. Yet here I am… Alone. _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ I’d love to see what you’re like when you shoot someone.  _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ I get absolutely ravenous. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you do that thing you like ;^) _

 

Shiro smiled at that, sticking his phone back into his pocket. The way Lance went from needy to offstandish in the blink of an eye kept Shiro on his toes constantly---and he loved every second of it. Just the other day, Shiro attempted to kiss Lance. Much to Shiro’s dismay, the blue boy shook his head, winked, and walked away. And there stood Shiro--horny and alone. Their relationship was anything but predictable. Manic? Yep. Insane? Definitely. Disturbing? For sure. But predictable? Not in the slightest. But that just meant it was more fun. 

 

Shiro passed the corner intersection, making his daily stop at his drop site. Lately, his requests from clients had been menial labor. Nothing big. Which didn’t bother Shiro in the slightest. It just meant more time to go woo Lance and beat his brother at Call of Duty. As he approached the mailbox, he could already tell something was inside. Opening the small mailbox door, he pulled out the usual manila folder. 

 

“Woot,  _ more  _ work.” He groaned, opening it up. But what it contained was something  _ much, much _ worse than any hit job, “Oh my fucking god…” His eyes went wide as he stared at a photo of his brother tied up to a chair. Is this a fucking joke? This has to be a prank, right? Under the photo was a typed note. The small black letters pressed against the stark white background only engrained more fear into Shiro.

 

_ Dearest Champion, _

 

_ As you can see, we have something of yours. Over a month ago, you were ordered to kill Lance McClain. Yet, he still lives. The only possible conclusion I came to was you either: disobeyed your orders or you’re the worst hitman in the world. Now I think you and I both know your kill record speaks for itself. So that just leaves that you’ve disobeyed your orders. That can’t be looked past. I’m a busy man, Champion. I just want my hit carried out. If you want your brother back safe and sound, you best clean your weapon and get to it. You have until the end of the month. My people are watching and they will report to me  _ everything  _ you do. So no funny business, please. Cheers. _

 

Anger boiled in his blood as he looked around him. ‘ _ There are so many people… _ ’ Shiro thought, eyes darting.  _ ‘Is it her? _ ’ He looked to a woman drinking coffee across the street, ‘ _ Or him? _ ’ He looked at a man standing at a bus stop, surfing his phone.  _ ‘Fuck _ !’ Shiro ran the rest of the way to his apartment, practically breaking the door down. The entire place was spotless. No signs of a struggle. His mind raced, his vision spun, and soon he sat down, gripping his head tightly.  _ ‘How could I let this happen? _ ’ His thoughts darted from Keith to Lance in a never-ending cycle. 

 

After almost an hour of coming to terms with what to do, he stood from the couch and walked to his bedroom closet. He opened the closet door, revealing a gun safe. Once opened, he grabbed his numerous pistols and two AR-15s, shoving them into a duffle bag. No one hurts Keith and lives. 

 

***

 

Lance sat in a corner booth at the bar he frequented, looking into his glass. His thoughts always lingered on a certain hitman. Part of him actually  _ really  _ liked Shiro, but the businessman in him knew that manipulating Shiro to do hit work for free was the best option and to leave feelings out of it. But Lance  _ never  _ thought he’d actually  _ catch feelings _ for the man. He groaned in confliction, slamming his head on the table. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he never noticed the door swing open.

 

“McClain.” That voice. That voice belongs to-- 

 

“Uh… Shirogane?” Lance looked at him confused. Without a chance to process anything, a hand wrapped around his throat, dragging him out of the booth, “What the  _ fuck _ ?!” Lance yelled, his eyes widening in surprise. 

 

“Who the  _ fuck  _ wants you dead?” Shiro threw Lance to the ground, his eyes filled with rage. Something Lance hasn’t ever seen. It was  _ very  _ terrifying, “Answer me!” Shiro yelled, pulling his Glock out and pointing it right at Lance’s face.

 

“What’s going on?” 

 

“Tell me what you fucking did to get a hit in my drop site.” Lance put his hands up in defense, panic rising through his body. Something is definitely wrong. 

 

“A lot of people want me dead-”

“Then write a list,” Shiro demanded.

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me, write a fucking list!” He screamed, grabbing Lance by the shirt collar and pushing him back into the booth. Shiro pulled out a worn-out mini leather-bound journal from his pocket, throwing it onto the table along with a pen. Lance flipped through it, in awe of what was inside. Each page had names written, each with a red line drawn through each one. The last page had a neatly written, ‘Lance McClain’ in black ink.  _ ‘His hit book… There are at least 40 pages already full... _ ’ Lance grabbed the pen, his hand shaking. 

 

“Start writing. I want to know everyone who would want you dead,” Shiro held the gun back to Lance’s head, clicking the safety off, “And I want it quick… Or your brains will paint these walls.” Shiro’s voice wavered. Lance could tell he was upset by having to do this. 

 

“Are you going to kill me either way?” Lance asked casually, taking in a deep breath as he wrote down a few names. 

 

Shiro cocked the gun, “Maybe.” Lance gulped, writing the last name.

 

“Then kill me you fucking animal.” Lance turned and looked down the barrel of the gun, pressing his forehead to the metal. ‘ _ Fuck, it’s hot! _ ’ Lance shot back, wincing in pain. ‘ _ He recently shot it… _ ’ 

 

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that, babe,” Shiro leaned down, placing a kiss on the red spot on Lance’s forehead, “Had a run in on the way here.” Lance looked up at him, scooting further back into the booth. 

 

“What did they do?” Lance asked, wondering who he could have possibly shot. 

 

“Nothing at all. Just thought I’d need the target practice.” Shiro leaned in close to Lance again, brushing the brown hair from his eyes. ‘ _ This isn’t like him... ‘ _ Lance thought, staring at Shiro with wide eyes. 

 

“One of these fuckers took my brother… And I’m going to rip them all _ limb from limb _ .” Shiro whispered into Lance’s ear, placing a soft kiss on his lips. ‘ _ He’s manic---completely unhinged right now. Losing his brother completely undid him.. _ .’ Shiro stood up straight again, grabbing the notebook and shoving it back into his pocket. The hitman turned around, starting to walk out. 

 

“I can help you!” Lance blurted, which caused Shiro to turn back around. 

 

“No. Stay put.” And with that, Shiro walked out the door, an evil smile plastered on his face.

 

“Fuck…” A visible weight lifted off his shoulders once Shiro left. The man that hired Shiro to kill Lance was finally fed up. The Altean stood, pacing the bar. After a few laps. He whipped out his cell phone, dialing a number. 

 

“Yellow?” A girl said cheerfully through the phone. 

 

“Yo, Pidge! It’s me, Lancey!”

 

“I have caller ID, Lance.”

 

“Oh, yeah, right…” Pidge sighed. 

 

“What do you want?” Lance cleared his throat, taking in a deep breath.

 

“You got any fancy software that can track people that purposefully don’t want to be tracked?” Pidge was silent for a moment.

 

“Obviously. Send me a picture of the guy and I’ll have constant facial recognition on all the cameras in the city. You’ll know where he is or where he’s heading virtually in real time.” She explained, the faint sound of computer keys being smacked in the background. 

 

“Great, I’ll email a photo. Thanks, Pidge.” And with that, he hung up the phone. Whether Shiro wanted it or not, Lance would help him. No matter what. 


	8. Bitter and Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance does something possibly stupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skreeee I actually did look up how easy it is to get phone numbers from reps and senators and it's way easier than I thought?
> 
> Also, this chapter is short b/c I need sleep and apparently running on a total of 3 hours of sleep for the past week isn't a good thing. It's already 3 AM so I'm already pushing it. LMAO.

__

_ From: Gremlin  _

_ Hey, that software is up and running if you want to use it. Each time it picks up his face, your computer will alert you. Pretty simple. Have any trouble, just lmk. In ur email. _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Great, thanks, Pidge. You’re the best :^)  _

 

_ From: Gremlin _

_ Whatever, turd. >:) _

 

Lance opened the file that she sent over, leaving it open on his computer. Within an hour, his computer was blowing up with alerts from all over town. 

 

“What are you doing Shiro…?” Lance whispered to himself, watching the map light up. This man is up to something. He began to notice how Shiro didn’t stay in one place for more than an hour or so-- even in the dead of night. 

 

“Does he never fucking sleep?” Lance groaned, hearing his computer sounding alerts at 2:30 in the morning. What could he be doing? 

 

**Two weeks later…**

 

The list Lance scribbled out was leading nowhere. The further down the list he got, the hope of finding his brother got smaller. Each time he spilled blood only to discover nothing, his anger grew as well. The crushing weight of the situation seemed to chip away at his sanity each passing second. Typically, Shiro didn’t get much sleep due to his night terrors anyways, but the fact his brother was on the verge of being murdered made his bad habits even worse. Dark circles began to appear under his eyes as his amount of sleep dwindled. 

 

A low growl escaped him as he tore the small notebook out of his jacket, examining the messy writing. One name remained untouched by Shiro’s cursed red pen. He examined the name, taking in every letter and every single stroke of the pen. The name burned into his mind. 

 

_ Senator Lotor _

 

The last name. The last hope of finding his brother alive. If Shiro fucked up, there’d be an empty room that he’d have to pass every single day. The ghost of his brother would haunt the halls, his tainted memories like a wine stain on a white carpet. 

 

“I won’t let that happen,” Shiro growled, shoving the notebook back into his pocket. Nothing would stop him from getting his brother back. Even if it meant having to give up everything. Shiro closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. What was there to do? 

 

“Fuck it…” Shiro pulled out his phone, searching up Senator Lotor. This guy is a public servant so he has to have… “A number,” Shiro whispered to himself, looking at the contact information below his website information. If there’s one thing Shiro hated more than his family being threatened, it’s dirty politicians. He dialed the number, putting the cold screen to his ear.

 

After a few rings, “Hello, thank you for calling the office of Senator Lotor. This is Acxa, how may I direct your call?” Shiro smirked, clearing his throat.

 

“I’d like to set up a meeting. As early as possible.”

 

“The senator is quite busy, so the next available time would be next month.”

 

“Well, I suggest he clear his schedule.”

 

“Excuse me? Who  _ are  _ you?” Her snark came out, which only egged Shiro on.

 

“I’m the big brother of that man your boss is keeping hostage,” Shiro paused, stifling a laugh, “So I’d really like that meeting.” Her gasp at the other end was soft, yet audible. Soft rummaging noises were heard through the other end but quickly ceased.

 

“How does tonight around 8 PM sound?”

 

“Perfect.” Shiro hung up the phone, wringing his hands together. Time to start planning. 

 

***

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Shiro? It’s been two weeks since I saw you… Are you okay? _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Where are you? _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ The bar as usual… Why? _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ We need to talk… Everywhere else will be heavily monitored. Check your bar for bugs and check it TWICE. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.  _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Why? What’s going on? _

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Please… Just do it.  _

 

_ From: Lancey Lance _

_ Ok. For you. _

 

Lance scoured the bar more than twice, looking for any signs of a bug. But each time he came up with nothing. Just dust and old smells. The place was completely clean and safe to talk in. The brunet decided to get their drinks already prepared and sat on the table, waiting. Exactly 8 minutes later, the man himself walked through the door. 

 

“Over here.” Lance motioned to Shiro, pointing to their hidden corner booth. Shiro didn’t say anything as he walked over, sitting down and pulling out his notebook on instinct. Lance glanced at Shiro but had to take a second look. ‘ _ He looks like shit! _ ’ 

 

“You look like shit.” Lance verbalized his thoughts, immediately regretting it. After Shiro’s rampage two weeks ago, Lance made sure to walk on eggshells. He took in Shiro’s dark, sunken in eyes and the way his skin lost almost all its color. He looked miserable. As if he was dragged through hell itself.

 

“I feel like it.” His voice was low, obviously showing signs that he was drop dead tired. 

 

“When did you last sleep?” Lance leaned onto the table to get a closer look, reaching out and touching Shiro’s cheek. The other man simply flinched at his touch, obviously surprised by his cold fingers. 

 

“Two weeks ago.” Lance’s eyes widened,  _ ‘That explains the delayed reaction time to my touch..’ _ Lance thought, thinking of what to possibly do. There’s no way Shiro can go out and fight like this. It’s a surprise that he even got here without getting hurt. 

 

“Jesus, Kashi, you need to take care of yourself,” Lance sighed, looking down at the table for a moment, “You can’t do anything like this. You can’t save your brother when you’re on the verge of passing out!” Shiro looked like he was going to knock Lance out, but didn’t have the energy to even lift a finger. Not good. 

 

“What did you need to meet me for?” 

 

“This,” Shiro pushed the notebook across the table over to Lance with a yawn, “There’s one name left. Lotor or whatever. I’m meeting him tonight at his office and I need to know how you know him.” Shiro couldn’t stop blinking throughout his sentence. ‘ _ He is barely awake! _ ’ Lance took the notebook, putting it into his pocket. This couldn't continue. He couldn’t let Shiro walk out of this bar and possibly get murdered. 

 

“No. You’re not meeting him like this. You almost fell asleep just telling me that sentence. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it through a meeting with him,” Lance stood to his feet, holding out a hand, “It’s safe here. You need to rest and sleep.” Shiro just sat there, shaking his head over and over. The determination in this fucker is his only admirable trait right now. 

 

“No, I have to meet him. I need to get Keith back-”

 

“You can’t do that like this! You’ll be lucky if you even make it down the street,” Lance shook his hand in front of Shiro, reminding him it was there for him to take, “Please… I’m asking nicely. Don’t make me get mean.” Shiro laughed, shaking his head. 

 

“Get mean? I’d like to see you tr-” Shiro couldn’t even finish his sentence before his head made direct and harsh contact with the thick, wooden table. Lance checked to see if Shiro was alright, which he was as he was promptly knocked out. 

 

“Now… Time to figure out what to do with this Lotor freak.” Lance mumbled, walking into the backroom to get his weapons ready. 

 

***

**That night, 6 PM…**

 

The cold, crisp air didn’t stop Lance from wearing his usual fashion style. A nice pair of blue shorts, a black half-shirt, a black leather jacket, and some thick, heavy boots. You know.. To smash in skulls with---if needed, of course. While he shivered from the 30 feet from the Uber to the front doors, the sudden relief of heat felt almost orgasmic. 

 

“Uh.,” Lance said softly, making his way to the directory that hung on the wall. ‘I really didn’t plan this out at all.’ Lance thought to himself, biting his lip. “This will either go super bad or really good…” He mumbled, finding the floor he needed and promptly getting on the elevator. A nice old lady stood next to him as he pressed the giant, glowing ‘4’ on the control panel. Lance couldn’t stop staring at the door as if the moment it opened, a firing squad would shoot him down where he stood. He wasn’t usually nervous. But that’s because he typically had a plan. But now? Oh, he’s flying blind. 

 

“Are you okay?” The old lady asked, noticing Lance’s distressed state. 

 

“Me? Oh, yes, ma’am. I’m just deciding whether I want to dismember him or just blow his brains out.” He looked over at her with a smile, completely ignoring her horrified face. It made him begin to laugh, shaking his head.

 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” 

 

_ Ding _ !

 

The elevator door opened to Lance’s floor and he stepped off, waving goodbye to the still horrified old woman. Her face would make him smile for weeks to come. Assuming he lives through this, of course. His heavy boots hit the ground, causing the loud bang to echo through the office. 

 

“Can I help you?” A woman asked, looking up from her computer at the reception desk. Lance leaned in to read her name tag.

 

“Yes, uh Acxa, you certainly can help me out.” He leaned in over the desk, “I’m here to see your boss. Y’know… The douche.” Her face visibly dropped once she realized who she was talking to. 

 

“You’re-”

 

“Lance McClain? The most beautiful man in the universe? Yep, that’s me, sweetie,” He flashed a smile, “It’d really help me out if I could see Senator Douche, though.” He gave a lip pout, letting his jacket fall down his shoulder. 

 

“I can’t. He’s busy.”

 

“Sure he is,” Lance nodded as he pushed the sleeves up on his leather jacket, and pulled out a switchblade from his pocket, “I’m sure he’d love to come out to a blood-covered carpet, too.” She flinched back, pressing the comms on the phone.

 

“Sir, you have an important visitor,” She hung up, pointing him down the hall, “He’s the first door on the left.” 

 

“Thank you.” He put the blade back into his pocket, sashaying his way to the office. The door opened with a creak as Lance slipped in, making his way to the desk where his target sat. 

 

“Hey, baby.” Lance winked, plopping down onto one of the numerous seats in the gigantic office. Giant glass windows lined the back wall of the office, which let all the lights of the city illuminate the room. Lotor sat in his chair, his gaze intense and not wavering from the pest that invaded his office. 

 

“There’s this guy I like, Senator. Things were going amazingly… We would go on dates almost every day. But then, and this is where it makes me angry,” Lance grabbed a nearby knick-knack, examining it, “Some sort of douche decided to intervene and ruin everything… I’ll give you a guess as to who that douche is.” Lance’s gaze floated up to meet Lotor’s.

 

“Oh, dear is it… me, perhaps?” Lotor rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed with Lance’s childish antics. 

 

“You’re right! Ding, ding, ding!” Lance jumped up from his spot, “What does he win, folks? A trip to Bali? A new car?” Lance screamed, looking around the office at his imaginary audience, “Nope! Neither! But he does get to decide if he wants his death to be  _ slow  _ or very,  _ very  _ painful.” Lance walked closer to the unphased man, slamming the knick knack onto the floor and watching it shatter. 

 

“Those aren’t very good choices. Either way, it’ll be painful,” Lotor stood to his feet, his chair flying behind him, “But it doesn’t matter. I won’t be the one begging for my life tonight.” Lance gulped, trying to maintain his demeanor. 

  
‘ _ Fuuuuuuck. _ ’


	9. Toxic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Lotor have some words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REEEALLLY short chapter b/c I'm the middle of packing my stuff and I don't wanna be up all night b/c Sgt will be mad at me if I show up to PT practically asleep lmao
> 
> 23 days until I leave...

“Hey! Wake up!” The moment Shiro opened his eyes, the pain of his head being smacked into the solid wood table rang throughout his entire body. Who the actual fuck was waking him up? But more importantly--

 

“What time is it?!” Shiro panicked, shooting up from the booth. It was dark outside already… He’s been out for awhile. The short girl with big round glasses stepped back, looking at her watch. 

 

“Uh… It’s 9:30,” She looked up from her watch and to Shiro. She knew him. This is the guy that Lance had her program set to find… But Lance isn’t anywhere in sight. What did he do to Lance? Her eyes narrowed, “Where’s Lance?” She watched as Shiro rubbed his forehead, shaking his head. 

 

“I don’t know. He knocked me out a while ago. That’s the last I saw him.” Shiro sighed heavily, looking down at her displeased face. This little gremlin sure had a really convincing bitch-face. 

 

“Well, you better find out… I’m worried. He hasn’t talked to me all night.” Her voice dripped with a mixture of concern and annoyance, “Which I usually don’t mind… But I have a bad feeling about this radio silence.” She stayed silent for a moment more, “I came over to see if he was here, but… I only found you.” 

 

Shiro pulled out his phone, checking his messages. Nothing from Lance. 

 

_ From: Champion _

_ Lance? Are you okay? Where are you? _

 

They waited together in silence for an answer that never came. 

 

_ From: Champion _

_ You better have not done anything stupid _ .

 

Shiro shoved his phone back into his pocket, groaning loudly. Lance did something stupid, didn’t he? He pushed past the younger girl, ignoring her protests and yells.

 

“Where the fuck are you going?!”

 

“To rescue not only my brother but now apparently your idiot boss, too.” Shiro snapped as he slammed the door behind him. 

 

***

 

Lotor was the opposite of a gracious guest. Not only did Lance have to threaten his assistant to see him, but now Lotor is threatening his life. How rude! Lance knew he fucked up really bad by coming here with practically no plan… Well, he had a plan. But not a very good one. His plan was literally just, ‘ _ Kill Lotor, get Keith.’  _ Which sounds easy when you’re on an adrenaline high… But when it comes to actually executing it, it’s way harder than it seems. 

 

“Why the blue face, Lance? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Lotor smirked as he walked out from behind his desk and closer to Lance. The gang member just stood there, reeling all possible solutions in his mind. 

 

“No, not particularly.”

 

“Oh? Why?” Lotor questioned.

 

“Hm, well… Maybe because you hired a hitman to kill me.” Lotor laughed, pushing the hair out of his eyes.

 

“You know why I had to do that.” His voice was soft and felt like velvet to Lance’s ears. 

 

“Yeah, well, you know why I did what I did, too,” Lance’s tone was sharp and accusatory. 

 

“What I did?” Lotor drew closer until he was finally able to wrap an arm around Lance’s waist, “What exactly did I do?” He whispered in the other’s ear. 

 

“The public has to know about your  _ real  _ intentions… All your corruption… It’s  _ not right. _ ” Lance pushed Lotor off of him, stepping back, “It disgusts me.  _ You  _ disgust me.” Lance spat out. That only made Lotor angry, and Lance could tell he was. The other man rushed Lance, knocking him to the ground. Lotor quickly pinned Lance down, holding down his arms. Lance squirmed under him, which Lotor quickly fixed with a harsh hit to Lance’s face. He groaned in pain, beginning to taste that familiar, distinct iron taste in his mouth. 

 

“What a shame they won’t get to see all that lovely information you worked  _ so hard _ for.” Lance scowled, spitting blood right on Lotor.

 

“ _ Fuck you!”  _ Lance scathed through clenched teeth. He watched Lotor’s face distort in disgust, ‘ _ This is my chance! _ ’ Lance quickly brought his knee up, jamming it directly between Lotor’s legs and into his crotch.

 

“Fucking  _ hell _ !” Lotor yelled, rolling off of Lance and curling up. In an instant, Lance was up on his feet, cracking his knuckles. 

 

“Y’know… You’re gonna pay for that.” Lance wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, gently rubbing the area he was punched. He closed the gap between him and the writhing senator, sighing heavily. With ease he lifted his foot, kicking Lotor straight into the side of the head. It felt nice doing it, “not only for the punch but for even thinking you could win.” Lance crouched down to the other’s level, gripping his head by his long, white hair. 

 

With a smirk, he said, “Now, sit still and behave yourself. I have a phone call to make.” He placed an overly gentle kiss on Lotor’s forehead, then swiftly let go of his hair. Lance sighed, sitting cross-legged next to the disoriented Lotor and pulled out his phone, dialing a number.

 

_ Ring, Ring, Ring… _

 

“Hello?” Shiro’s gruff, tired voice rang through Lance’s ears. It made him perk up, a huge smile appearing on his face, “Lance? Are you okay?”

 

“Shiro… I’m with our best friend, Lotor,” Lance glanced down at the man beside him, “I was going to take care of him myself, but… I thought you’d wanna have some fun, too.”

  
“Lance, you  _ idiot _ , why did you go in by yourself? You honestly infuriate me sometimes. Are you even listening to m-” Lance hung up the phone, throwing it aside. He looked at Lotor, sighing heavily. He stood to his feet. Might as well have some fun before Shiro arrives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the short chapter, but I'll update again Saturday night with a longer chapter.


	10. Pumped Up Kicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith meets his captors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I have pre-written chapters all ready to be posted over the weekend! Enjoy! And wow this is over 1,00 words but it still looks like a short chapter! Oh well.

The entire trip to Lotor’s office, Shiro couldn’t help but think about all the things he was going to do to that monster. Not only did he have his brother captive, but Lance was in possible danger. But from the sounds of it, Lance seemed to have everything under control. 

 

“He’s going to regret even being born,” Shiro muttered as he stepped out of the cab, sizing the building up. With a heavy sigh, he began his ascent to hell. 

 

***

 

“Where the fuck am I?” Keith called out, struggling against the restraints that bound him to the hard, wooden chair. The blindfold only made him panic more. He was at the complete mercy to anyone that was there… and there was nothing he could do about it. 

 

“Shut the  _ fuck  _ up! How many times do we have to tell you to  _ be quiet! _ ” A female voice yelled right in his face, raising his hand and striking Keith across the face. The young man hissed in pain, biting his lip. Nothing was worse than this situation.  _ ‘Be strong, Keith. If Shiro can go through worse, then you can certainly handle this _ .’ He told himself over and over until it became his personal mantra. 

 

“Zethrid, stop, if you keep lashing out at him, you’ll kill him!” Another female voice cried out but in the annoying nagging way. Zethrid growled, stepping away from Keith. The man sighed in relief, happy that she was pulled away from him. She always was the harshest when it came to how they treated him, “Just because you have anger issues doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want!” 

 

“You’re always so soft, Ezor. He’s our prisoner! We should get to treat him however we want!” Zethrid complained. While Keith couldn’t see, his hearing certainly heightened. He could hear every breath, step, and whisper these two made.

 

“Senator Lotor wants him alive and  _ safe _ . If Champion sees his brother littered with bruises and covered with blood, that’ll piss him off! Do you really want that fucking psychopath out for us, too?” Ezor paused, taking in a sharp breath, “It’s bad enough our boss roped us into this whole mess. I don’t want to die because of this.” She confessed, her steps growing louder and louder until Keith could feel her standing right in front of him. Ezor reached out her hand, tugging the blindfold off of Keith’s face. The brightness of the room blinded him at first. Everything was drowned out by the white light, causing him to squint ridiculously at everything around him. 

 

“Why did you do that?!” Zethird growled, slightly pushing one of Ezor’s shoulders back. The other woman simply frowned, throwing the blindfold onto the ground. Keith looked up at them, his vision finally back to normal. These two were dressed in formal business wear. From whom Keith assumed to be Zethrid, he could tell that she didn’t mind kicking his ass even if it meant getting blood all over her expensive looking blazer. The other, Ezor, crossed her arms with a scowl as she made her way to look out the window. Her dark skin glowed against the flooding natural light and with each step she took, her curly hair bounced up and down. Keith watched as she tapped her foot, biting her lip. She looked like she didn’t want to even be here. Keith felt her on that level.

 

The room was the living room of an upscale apartment. Everything was chic and brand fucking new. The back wall of the living room was nothing but windows, which meant the natural city light’s of cars and billboard signs illuminated the room. Along with the bright iridescent white light from the kitchen. Fuck. Those should be illegal just for how fucking bright they are. 

 

“She’s right, you know… Ezor, I mean,” Keith paused once both ladies whipped their heads in his direction. He gulped, “My brother won’t be happy to see me in this state… But…” He trailed. Zethrid growled, her dark brown eyes filling with fire. Keith always loved brown eyes. Well, Keith loved eyes in general. They always reflected the inner soul of their body they were stuck in. In Zethrid’s case, Keith noticed how her eyes were the color of the rich soil, but littered with flecks of gold that made her eyes hold the appearance of an inner fire. But he knew there was more to it than what he sees. He knew this wasn’t the time to examine the facial features of his captors, but he’ll take anything he can get at this point. He needs to weasel his way onto their good side… Somehow. 

 

“But what?! Huh?! What can you brother do?” She yelled directly into Keith’s face. Upon closer inspection, he realized the missing piece of the mystery was the fact her eyes dripped with dear. She was scared. Just as much as he was. 

 

“He won’t do anything if you let me go.” She began to laugh, walking away and sitting in a nearby chair. Ezor stayed put by the window, biting her lip a little harder. It was obvious she was in the middle of an internal battle, “All he wants is Lotor to pay. My brother may be a murderer for hire, but he does have  _ some  _ codes of conduct… He won’t kill you if I tell him not to.” Keith explained. Ezor tore her gaze from the world outside the window, her gaze slowly falling onto Keith. 

 

“Lotor is a tyrant. What he’s capable of--- what he’s done… He’ll continue to do this. He holds no hesitation in who he hurts and all those he bulldozes along the way.” She began to walk toward Keith, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor, “I didn’t want to be apart of this. Yeah, I knew he was a little… Messed up. But then he… He killed our friend.” She looked over to Zethrid, her eyes showing nothing but pain and regret. The other woman looked at her feet. 

 

“He killed Narti without hesitation. With no emotion. That’s when I knew he wasn’t someone we should be associated with anymore… But he’s a spider. We can’t get out of his web. We’re stuck like helpless bugs.” She sputtered out the last part, biting her lip again. Zethrid, amazingly, remained quiet. It was obvious she agreed with Ezor on that part. Ezor took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. 

 

“We need to stop him. What can we do?” Ezor asked, pulling out a chair from the kitchen, crossing her legs as she sat. Keith took a second to think before finally saying, “Well… By now my brother is very pissed and most likely either killing Lotor now or getting to it. The best thing we--you-- can do is get everything you need together that connects Lotor with any and all crimes he’s done.” Ezra nodded, listening intently. Zethrid just remained silent. Keith could only imagine what was going through her mind. She probably was thinking about hitting him again, since she does that well… a lot. 

 

“But we need to find my brother. He’ll know what to do and how to do it better than I do. After all, he’s the professional.” Ezor pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts. 

 

“So we’re just going to listen to his kid? It could be a trap.” Zethrid seared. 

 

“Maybe so. But it’s the best chance we have of getting revenge on Narti. It’s the least we can do for her.” Ezor clicked on the call button, putting it to her ear. The three sat in silence as it rang. Moments later, a voice was heard over the phone. 

 

“Hi, Axca, it's me. It’s time to take down Senator Douche. Meet me at the apartment.” The other gave a curt reply before hanging up. Oh boy. Keith cursed Shiro silently thinking of how this all started because he couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants. 


	11. It's Us Who Made This Mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah sorry for such a late update! I had a boot camp scare this week. I was last minute changed to leave 2 days ago, but they then last minute canceled it... So you're stuck with me for the next 11 days. Which is why my pre-written chapters never made it up this weekend. I was also quite sick, which was no fun on top of that "you're going to boot camp tomorrow hahaahaha just kidding!" ordeal. GAHHHH JUST SEND ME AWAY ALREADY, AMERICA! I'M READY! I'm just a man with simple needs: to drop some bodies, eat some food, and beat the shit out of someone with pugil sticks. Is that too much to ask for?

The elevator doors opened to reveal a quiet and seemingly empty office. The walked up to the desk that should have housed the secretary but found the desk empty. The computer screen still displayed mundane, boring work-related bullshit. But there was no purse, wallet, or phone laying there on the desk. They must have left. 

 

He walked around the area, checking to make sure no one else was around. What he was about to do would require there being no witnesses. Yet again, he found no one around. Shiro started looking into the actual personal offices, cracking each door open. No one yet. He went to the opposite end of the floor, opening the first door on his left. He cracked it open, looking inside. Furniture was thrown around and soft noises could be heard. Bingo. He opened the door all the way, the room coming into full view. There sat Lance on the ground, holding a pocket knife to Lotor’s face. Shiro could tell Lance took it upon himself to commence the fun.

 

Bruises already formed on Lotor’s exposed skin, his face cracked and bleeding from a barrage of cuts and hits. The sight of Lance doing this to someone made Shiro a little, well,  _ hard _ . 

 

“Shiro! I’m glad you got here so quickly,” Lance stood to his feet, wiping the blood from his hands onto his pants, “I couldn’t help myself. It was too hard to resist.” Lance walked closer to Shiro, soon grabbing onto his jacket. Shiro took in the sight before him. Blood spattered on Lance’s perfect skin and an obviously broken nose. This fucking bastard dared to even  _ touch  _ Lance. It’s like he has a suicide wish. Shiro placed his hand on Lance’s cheek, picking away at some of the dried blood. Only he was allowed to touch Lance. Anyone else that did would have to suffer. 

 

“Did he do this to you?” Shiro asked softly, his voice full of concern. Lance nodded gently, leaning into Shiro’s touch. Shiro looked from Lance to the bloodied man on the floor. Pathetic, “Well, then I’m gonna have to make this right.” He pulled his hand away from Lance, stepping around him. Lotor laid there in all his pathetic glory. A smirk appeared on his face with each step toward the man. He kneeled down, pulling his stiletto pocket knife out from his boot. 

 

“Oh, Senator… Don’t you know better than to poke the bear?” 

 

“What?” Lotor looked up at the man with a sharp, killer scowl, “What bear?” He grimaced at the pain but still managed to spit right in Shiro’s face. The other simply wiped it off, pulling Lotor up by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close. 

 

“ _ Me _ ,” Shiro growled, his demeanor changing the aura of the room. What went from an intense, heavy feeling in the air changed to something sinister and dark. It made even Lance cower a bit. Shiro used the hand holding stiletto pocket knife, bringing it up against Lotor’s throat. He could kill this man right here. Sweet, dark crimson would pool around them. In sheer moments the problem that plagued their lives would be gone. All that would remain was their memory and the red stained carpet. But no. That’d be too easy. Lotor took his brother, hurt Lance, and was just an asshole all around. He wants to rip this fucker limb from limb. He deserves it after everything he’s done, after all. 

 

“Lance, how many times did he lay his  _ dirty  _ hands on you?” Shiro didn’t stop looking into Lotor’s eyes, the knife never leaving the other’s throat. 

 

“Three times.”

 

“Three? Oh, Senator, you’re a ballsy man.” Shiro pulled the knife from Lotor’s throat, grabbing his left hand, “Three times… My, my, my… What to do what to do.” Shiro mumbled to himself, examining the long, slender fingers that were unfortunately attached to the senator’s body. The stiletto knife eventually rested just above the knuckle, “Usually I use something a little more… efficient for this. But at this point, you deserve it.” Shiro pushed the knife into his skin, starting to saw at the flesh until it finally hit bone. Lotor screamed in agony, using his other hand to try and fend off his attacker. It didn’t work. Within moments, his ring finger laid on the ground. Blood began to pour from the spot where his finger once attached. 

 

“You fucking psychopath! What the actual fuck?!” Lotor screamed, but was promptly ignored as Shiro did the exact same thing to two of his other fingers. Within minutes, a ring finger, an index, and a pinky laid next to Lotor. The senator looked at all the blood dripping down his arm and onto the floor in shock. As did Lance. 

 

“Shiro--”

 

“Lance, I’m not done with him just yet.” Lance grabbed Shiro’s arm, bringing him to his feet forcibly, causing him to drop his knife on the ground. The other male gawked at him as Lance shuffled him across the room. Lotor watched the two become completely and utterly entranced with each other.  _ ‘This is my chance.’ _ He thought, fighting through all the pain he felt. He quietly grabbed the stiletto knife, hiding with his right (and only good) hand. These fuckers will pay. 

 

“If you keep this up you’ll kill him!” Lance lectured.

 

“Good! He deserves it!” 

 

“He does, I agree. But how will you find Keith then, huh? A dead man can’t exactly speak.” Lance placed a hand on his hip, raising an eyebrow. Shiro sighed heavily, nodding. Lance was absolutely right. He can’t keep this up if he wants his brother back, “Just… Take it easy, ok?” Shiro nodded once more. Fuck, he hated it when Lance was right. Which, unfortunately, was quite often. 

 

“Okay. Fine. Find Keith. That’s what this whole thing was about anyways. We need to find him.” Shiro kept repeating to himself. He closed his eyes, running his hands through his hair. A soft kiss found its way onto Shiro’s lips in the meantime, which only dizzied Shiro. Lance always had that dizzying effect on him. 

 

“We’ll find him.”  Lance stepped back from Shiro, signaling he was done with their little talk. Shiro simply sighed, turning back to Lotor who hasn’t moved. He slowly made his way over to the bleeding man, kneeling down again. 

 

“Tell me where Keith is,” Shiro demanded. Lotor simply smirked, but no answer, “Tell me where he is!” Shiro’s voice boomed, but Lotor didn’t waver. He mumbled something under his breath, but Shiro couldn’t hear. 

 

“What?” He asked, getting closer to hear. Lotor cleared his throat, his out of sight right hand gripping onto the stiletto knife. 

 

“ _ Fuck you. _ ” Lotor hissed. His movements were quick and sharp, which gave Shiro virtually no time to react. A sharp pain radiated through his body but was focused mainly on his chest. Shiro stood to his feet immediately, stumbling back. Fuck, he was getting dizzy. What happened? He looked down at where the pain was, noticing his stiletto knife sticking out of his left chest. Thankfully, it’s not the heart… But still not good. 

 

“Fuck…” He hissed, a wave of dizziness overtaking him as he fell to the floor. Hot, crimson blood began to seep through his shirt at the entrance wound, “Well, this isn’t good.” He mumbled, the sounds of Lance’s scream and stumbling to get to him dulled out of his mind. Everything was getting dizzy and blurry. The last thing he saw before his world went black was Lance grabbing onto him, hot tears threatening to spill over. 

 

“Shame. He was good at his job,” Lotor hissed, trying to prop himself up off the floor, “Well.. obviously not  _ too  _ good.” Lance’s head whipped to face Lotor, nothing but fire and undeniable and untamable rage brewing inside him. 

 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Lance growled, his face distorting into something much sinister. 

 

“No, you won't. I’m going to kill  _ you  _ and send you off to  _ hell  _ to be with that pathetic, psychotic,  _ damaged  _ merc.” Lance’s fury only grew with each word the other spoke. He put his fingers to Shiro’s neck, finding a pulse. Thank god. But he needed help and he needed it now. 

 

Lance went to Lotor, kicking him back to the ground. Lance hissed in pain as Lotor made a swipe at him with the knife, which successfully cut his left thigh. As soon as Lotor’s head slammed on the ground, the stiletto knife clambered out of his hand. With the quickness of a fox, Lance grabbed ahold of the knife, gripping onto it tightly. He could kill Lotor right now. It would just take one harsh plunge into his chest. But he had neither the time nor the patience for it at this moment. Shiro was dying. 

 

“If you move, I’ll slit your fucking throat.” Lance scathed to Lotor as he made his way to the other’s desk, picking up the phone and promptly dialing 911.

 

“911 what’s your emergency?” A chirpy voice answered on the other end.

 

“Hi, yes, I need an ambulance. There’s been a stabbing. Well, more than one, actually.”

 

“Ok, we just need a location,” Lance told her the address and all the details she needed to know. He left out the part about Shiro being a hitman, him being a gang member, and Shiro dismembering the senator’s hand. Those were minute details that didn’t need to be told. 

 

“Please hurry…”

 

“They’re en route right now. They’ll be there shortly.” Lance didn’t say anything. He hung up the phone, walking to stand over Lotor. God, he really wanted to fucking kill him.

 

“When the police come, you’re going to take full responsibility for all of this. My injuries, yours, and Shiro’s. You’re not going to mention his occupation or mine either.” Lotor laughed, shaking his head.

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

“Because if you don’t, I’ll fucking kill you. Nice and slow. I’ll make sure you feel every single cut.” Lance threatened, the fire sparking back into his eyes, “Do you understand?” Lotor thought for a second, slowly nodding. Good. At least this fucker knows his place. 

 

“Lance…” A soft voice called out.  _ Shiro _ . Lance turned around, practically running to get to Shiro’s side. He was awake, but barely. 

 

“Shiro? Shiro, stay awake.” Lance urged. The other groaned in pain, looking down his blood-soaked shirt. So much blood.

 

“Babe, I’m sorry I couldn’t get this fucker for you.” 

 

“What? You have nothing to be sorry for. The police are coming and he’s not gonna tell. He’s gonna go away for a long time.”

 

“Yeah, but he should be dead.” Lance laughed, nodding softly. 

 

“Yeah, he definitely should be…” Lance pulled Shiro into his arms, careful not to mess with the knife. It was the only thing keeping the blood from pouring out of him. 

 

“If I die, I just want you to know that… that I… I, um…” Shiro paused, not sure how to put it. ‘ _ You were a goddamn soldier! Pull yourself together, stop being a baby, and say it!’ _ He thought. Finally, he said, “I love you.” Lance’s heart skipped a beat at those words. God, he longed to hear those stupid three letters for so long. 

 

“You’re not going to die, Kashi… But I love you, too.” Lance smiled down at him, running his bloodied hands through Shiro’s hair. They sat there for minutes, Lance keeping small talk going to keep Shiro awake. Soft sirens were head in the distance, growing in intensity as they drew closer. 

 

For once, Lance was certain of one thing and one thing only:

 

He loved Takashi Shiro-fucking-gane. 


	12. Endings Without Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys... This is it. I leave for boot camp this Sunday. It was fun creating for everyone. Stay safe with your adventures and enjoy season five WITHOUT ME! Hopefully, I'll come back with more Shance content. I hope you enjoyed this series and feel free to check out my other works.

“Are you sure we have everything?” Ezor asked the room, sorting through various reports and pictures. They spent the last hour or so sorting through numerous reports, photos, and their own accounts of everything Lotor has done. They were finally ready to put this bastard behind them. Finally, they’d be able to get revenge for what he’s done to Narti. 

 

“Yeah, that’s a good start. The police can do the rest.” Acxa nodded, watching as Zethrid took the TV remote and turned on the news. Keith sat comfortably on the couch, watching the ladies work. They were so determined it was unbelievable. 

 

“Hey, guys. Look at the TV.” Zethrid’s voice dripped with urgency. Everyone turned to face the screen, their faces soon turning to one of surprise. The news reporters were stationed outside of the Senator’s office complex, the bottom of the screen flashing, _ ‘BREAKING NEWS: Senator Lotor was taken into custody’  _

 

“This is… This is…” Acxa stood to her feet, walking closer to the television, “Turn the sound up.” Zethrid promptly obeyed, turning the volume up all the way.

 

“ _ The local authorities were called to the scene after Senator Lotor attempted to kill and torture two citizens during their meeting. One is in critical condition at the hospital and the other is currently providing their account of the events that passed. The Senator is also being treated for wounds he received during the skirmish. The authorities and the Senator have declined to comment at this time. Updates will be provided as they come _ .” The screen cut back to the newsroom, the two anchors beginning to discuss other local events and stories. Everyone in the room starred in shock, their jaws practically touching the floor. Getting the police to believe their story and evidence would be a lot easier now that Lotor was already in custody for attempted murder. Keith sat there, racking his brain for a clue on what to do next. Shiro would be pissed off that someone got to Lotor before he did.

 

“I need to call my brother. Do you have a phone?” Keith looked around to the ladies, Acxa digging around in her pocket and pulling out her phone. She tossed it over, Keith quickly typing in Shiro’s cell number. It rang over and over, Keith almost thinking that he’d be sent to voicemail. Until--

 

“Hello? Who is this?” That wasn’t Shiro’s voice. Someone else was using his phone. This couldn’t be good.

 

“I should be asking you the same thing! Why the fuck do you have my brother’s phone?” Keith’s voice dripped with poison as he shot up from the couch, pacing the room. 

 

“What? His bro-” He paused for a second, “Oh. You’re his brother. I’m Lance.” How did Keith call him? Wasn’t he being held captive? Lance had so many questions reeling through his mind but decided that now wasn’t the appropriate time to bombard him with them. 

 

“Oh, you’re Lance? You’re the reason I got fucking kidnapped and you’re the reason my brother has been spiraling lately.” Keith’s voice was filled with fire, not letting Lance get in a single word. After minutes of Keith’s yelling, Lance’s patience wore thin. Finally, Lance’s fuse blew.

 

“Can you  _ shut up _ for two seconds?!” Keith finally went quiet, letting Lance get his words in, “Look, there’s been an incident.”

 

“What happ-”

 

“Let me finish,  _ Jesus _ ,” Lance sighed, “If you’ve seen the news you probably know what’s going on. But Shiro’s in the hospital. It’s pretty bad.” 

 

“What hospital?” Lance gave him the address and Keith hung up, giving Acxa her phone back. He looked at everyone, biting his lip. 

 

“My brother was the one who was with Lotor. He’s in the hospital… Apparently, it’s pretty bad.” 

 

“Keith---” Acxa started, but Keith shook his head, stopping her.

 

“This is the perfect chance for you guys. All the work and evidence you complied--it’ll be more than enough. He’ll spend the rest of his life in prison.” Everyone looked at each other, smiling. While their victory came at the price of their friend Narti and the wellbeing of Keith’s brother, it was a victory nonetheless. 

 

“I need to go to him--if that’s okay...” Keith’s voice trailed off, eyes lingering toward the door. The ladies surrounded him, each giving him a pat on the back.

 

“Of course that’s okay. As long as you don’t mention us being an accessory to your kidnapping.” Ezor winked, crossing her arms.

 

“Of course. As long as you don’t mention my brother being an assassin.” Keith winked back, giving one last goodbye as he walked out the door of the luxury apartment. Shiro needed him.

 

***

 

Lance sat next to Shiro’s bed, the soft beeps of the machines around them sounding as loud as a bomb in his ears. Fuck, this was his fault. If he hadn’t rushed in without a plan, maybe Shiro wouldn’t be in critical condition. Lance’s hand squeezed Shiro’s, tears threatening to escape once more. He shook his head, refusing to let them leak. He needed to be strong for Shiro. 

 

“Fuck, Shiro, come on. You’ll be okay.” Lance whispered, bringing his hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on Shiro’s knuckles. Shiro has been in and out of consciousness for hours now. But it was usually only for a few minutes before he was out again. Still, it was better than nothing. 

 

“I’m sorry, Shiro…” Lance said softly, sighing as he sat there in the silence. The silence was deafening. He sat there in his thoughts, not even noticing the door to the room opening. 

 

“Hello?” Keith asked, causing Lance to turn around sharply toward the voice, “Calm down. It’s me, Keith. Shiro’s brother.” Keith watched as Lance visibly relaxed, his hand still gripping onto Shiro. Keith walked over, sitting next to Lance in an open chair. For a moment, neither spoke to the other. 

 

“Lotor’s assistants should be dropping off damning evidence against Lotor this afternoon to the police. He should be in jail for a long time.” Keith said softly, not being able to look Lance in the eyes. All that mattered was his brother and the fact Lotor can’t hurt anyone. 

 

“I have some dirt on him, too. That’s why he wanted me dead, actually.” Keith looked over for a moment before looking back at his brother. So maybe Lance wasn’t as bad as he originally thought.

 

“How’s Shiro? Will he be okay?”

 

“He’ll be out of commission for awhile, but… So far he’s doing fine. He’ll be able to leave soon depending on how he does tonight.” Keith sighed in relief at Lance’s words. He looked at how Lance gently gripped Shiro’s hand and with the other, he ran his fingers through his brother’s hair. Everything about his actions screamed love. It was… refreshing to see Shiro receive that from someone that wasn’t Keith. 

 

“You love him?” Lance looked at Keith, obviously taken aback by the question. He didn’t know how to answer that. On one hand, yes. He loved Shiro. But on the other… The thought of relinquishing himself to another person and being tied down just made him so uneasy. 

 

“It’s… It’s… Complicated.”

 

“Well… Whatever it is… It’s definitely making Shiro a lot more like his old self. So.. Even though I don’t really like you, thank you for that I guess.” Keith mumbled the last part out, crossing his arms. They sat there in silence, watching Shiro. Eventually, Keith stood, sighing, “I should go. I need to get some things in order about this… Situation. Can you keep him company?” Lance nodded, not letting his eyes wander from Shiro.

 

“Thanks.” And with that, Keith walked out of the room. 

 

“I’m here, babe. I’ll always be here.” And Lance could swear that he felt Shiro’s hand grip his back for just a split second. 

 

***

**One year later…**

 

“Are you in position? I’m almost to the target.” Shiro said into his earpiece as he made his way up the stairs of the apartment complex. 

 

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for the signal.” Lance looked through his scope, watching as Shiro approached another man on the rooftop. 

 

“So. You must be The Champion I’ve heard so much about,” The man approached Shiro a bit too close for Lance’s comfort, but still waited for the signal, “I’ve had so much trouble with the messes you’ve been leaving around my city.”

 

“Your city? Detective, I think you mean  _ my  _ city,” Shiro put his hands on his hips, a smirk creeping up, “After all, I’ve cleaned up the streets. You should be throwing me a parade.” Lance laughed at Shiro’s blatant narcissism, shaking his head. The detective whipped out his pistol, holding it to Shiro’s head. Lance’s fingers were itching to blow his brains across the rooftop, but he needed to wait for the signal. 

 

“Really? This? Am I supposed to surrender?” 

 

“It’d be in your best interest to come with me. I hate using my gun.” Shiro’s smirk faltered for a second out of annoyance as he looked at the gun to his head and the man who held it. 

 

“Is that so? Good thing I just love using mine.” The detective took a step back, obviously confused.

 

“What? You don’t have a gun. I have you cornered. The only way you’ll get off this roof is either in a body bag or in cuffs.” Shiro shook his head, letting a laugh escape him.

 

“No, detective. I’m going to walk right off this roof and go meet my boyfriend for dinner,” Shiro looked in Lance’s general direction, sighing heavily, “And you’re right. I don’t have a gun. But I do have my sharpshooter. And he’s one hell of a shot.” With that, Shiro gave the signal, quickly moving back out of the way of the bullet’s path. The detective shot him nervous looks, about to pull the trigger on Shiro when blood spattered everywhere. The man’s body fell to the ground, his brains and blood seeping onto the roof. 

 

“Nice shot, babe.” Shiro complimented, wiping off blood from his forehead. Gross.

 

“Can we eat now? I’m fucking hungry.” Lance groaned as he began to pull apart his rifle. Over the earpiece, he heard Shiro laugh once more.

 

“Sure thing. Italian or Chinese?”

 

“Italian, obviously. I want to recreate the Lady and the Tramp scene with the pasta.” 

 

“What am I going to do with you?” Shiro grumbled as he made his way back down to the ground floor of the building.

 

“Kiss me, hopefully.” Lance quipped.

 

“Oh, trust me, baby. I’ll do that and more.” Shiro waited down by the car for Lance, quickly changing his shirt that had a few specks of blood on it. Fuck, that was a nice shirt, too! The car door opened and Lance shoved his rifle case in the back seat, then took his rightful place beside Shiro.  He leaned over, placing a soft kiss on Shiro’s lips.

 

“Love ya, Kashi.” 

 

“I love you too, Lance.” And with that, he started the car and made their way to their precious Italian food. 

 

Their lives were far from normal and perfect, but they swore on their lives that as long as they had each other, that’d certainly be enough.

 

END


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